Shooting Stars Across The Sky
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: A drabble/oneshot collection. If you have a wish, let me know. Different pairings, genres, and ratings, see the top of the fics for more details.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Pairing - **SiriusRemus

**Word Count - 1245**

* * *

**Where I Belong **

* * *

"He's awake," Sirius said, when James met him outside of Saint Mungo's.

James' eyebrow quirked, questioning Sirius' sombre demeanour. They'd been waiting for Remus to wake for a little over three weeks, he'd expected Sirius to be a little happier that his husband was finally awake.

"He doesn't remember me," Sirius added, his voice little more than a whisper. He threw the end of the cigarette he'd been smoking and promptly lit another, blowing smoke into the air. "He doesn't remember anything."

James rubbed a hand over his face. "Well that sucks. Doesn't explain why you're out her sulking though."

Sirius glared at him. "My husband doesn't know who I am, James! What the hell am I supposed to do with that? He looked at me like I was a _stranger_!"

"So of course you did the adult thing and ran away?" James shook his head. "You're a mess, mate. You need to get your ass back in there."

"And do what. Sit by his bedside and hope that his memory comes back?"

"Remind him why he fell in love with you in the first place, you dolt! Why am I always the adult in this friendship?"

…

A badly cast obliviate had landed him here, or so the Healers said. Remus didn't remember. Slowly, he was getting a few things back. His knowledge of the world had returned fairly quickly, and he understood most of what the healers said to him about their proposed treatment plans.

It was personal things he couldn't remember.

His… husband, sat beside his bed all day every day. Remus wasn't quite sure how that had happened. Husband. And Sirius… he was _gorgeous. _He had eyes that you could drown in, and pouty lips, and dimples when he smiled. He wore a leather jacket over band t-shirts and messy jeans, and his laugh was probably the best thing Remus had heard since he woke up.

Not that he heard it often.

Sirius only seemed to perk up when others were around. Remus couldn't help but wonder how happy their lives could really be, if only other people could make Sirius smile.

James was both of their favourite visitor. He made Sirius smile and laugh, and he didn't treat Remus like he was broken like many of his other visitors did.

On one occasion when James visited, he fetched his wife, Lily. Remus felt an immediate kinship with her when she grinned at him widely and asked him his thoughts on the front page article of the morning paper. Like James, she didn't treat him like he was stupid, simply because he'd lost his memory.

Remus wanted to say he didn't notice when Sirius slipped from the room followed quickly by James, but he did.

…

"You," James said, when they made it out into the sunshine, "have not been taking my advice at all."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "If you're going to lecture me, you can bugger off."

"Sirius… why are you sabotaging yourself?" James asked, his voice soft as he kept pace with his best friend.

Sirius shook his head angrily and then deflated and stopped walking, leaning back against the wall. He looked tired, and James' heart went out to him. He had no idea how he'd feel if Lily forgot everything about their relationship.

"He was always too good for me, you know? I just… I figure that if he really doesn't remember _us, _then maybe I should let him go, so he can meet someone… better."

James shook his head. "There is no better, especially not for Remus. That man worships the ground you walk on, he always has. Just because he doesn't remember that right now, it doesn't mean he never will."

Sirius sighed. "It's my fault he's in that bed. He wanted to stay home, and I made him go to that bar. If I'd done as he asked… none of this would have happened at all, James. How am I supposed to live with that?"

"By not abandoning the man you love," James replied firmly. "I understand that you're sad, and mad and hurt and angry and… all the other emotions you're probably feeling, but… Sirius, you love him and he loves you, even if he doesn't remember that. It's worth fighting for, isn't it?"

…

"What's that?" Remus asked, when Sirius reentered the hospital room. He'd been gone for a couple of hours, even after James returned alone to sit with him and Lily.

"Our wedding album," Sirius said quietly. "May I?"

He was pointing to the bed, to the empty spot beside Remus. Remus nodded, shifting over a little to give Sirius more room to sit down.

Sirius opened the large album across their knees, and Remus smiled at the first photo. The two of them stood together, Sirius' arm wrapped around Remus' shoulders, and wide smiles on both of their faces.

"We looked… in love," Remus said, when a few pages had been turned. "Really in love."

Sirius looked up and met his eyes. "We are."

…

What followed was days of photo albums, and then letters, and hours speaking of memories. Sirius talked until he was hoarse, and Remus loved every moment of it. At times, he thought that maybe a memory was sparking, just beyond the reach of his mind, but he knew that was probably wishful thinking.

Sirius even, after checking for onlookers, changed into a big black dog and pranced around the hospital room in an effort to remind Remus of something. Anything.

Nothing worked, but Remus appreciated every effort, and… he could see why he loved this man.

He was passionate and playful, loyal and faithful, and he loved with his whole being. If nothing else had come of this excursion in trying to bring back Remus' memories, then Remus had at least learned that Sirius loved him wholly and completely.

"Anything?" Sirius asked, after every new thing they tried.

When Remus shook his head, disappointment reigned on Sirius' features for a split second, before he buoyed himself once more and announced the next thing they could try. It was… adorable.

…

"You know I'm not physically injured, right?" Remus asked, smirking at Sirius when the man wouldn't let him carry his own bag.

"Well… maybe I just want to carry your bag," Sirius huffed, gesturing for Remus to enter the house. _Their house. _

He did so, automatically walking into the living room. Something so familiar jolted him and he looked around, his eyes touching on everything.

"I always sit on the left side of the sofa," he murmured. "And… that blanket is my favourite."

Sirius' dropped the bag and Remus turned to see him staring hopefully at Remus. "You… you remember?"

Remus hesitantly nodded, still looking around. "I think… I think things are… yeah. Things are…"

"Do you… Remus, do you remember me? Me do you remember _us_?"

"I…" Remus bit his lip, his mind being assaulted by a thousand nights of the two of them curling up on that sofa, teasing and cuddling and… "Yes. I… Yes."

…

They lay in bed, Remus on the left, his head pillowed on Sirius' chest.

"As happy as I am that my memories are returning, it wouldn't have mattered, you know?"

Sirius' hand stalled in his hair, tugging lightly. "What do you mean?"

"I was already falling back in love with you, Sirius. Even if my memories hadn't returned… this is where I belong. With you."

* * *

**Written for; **

Meet Cute March, Day 1 - After waking up from an accident, [A] finds a ring on her finger and a husband by her side—if only she could remember him! But [B]is determined to help [A] rediscover all the reasons they fell in love, by recreating their romance, one magical date at a time…

Alphabetti Spaghetti; O - Obliviate

Mythology - 23. Remus Lupin

Women's History - 4. An Animagus

365\. 48 - Drown

1000\. 912. Faithful


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Written for Assignment 4; Gardening, Task 2 - Someone who wants to be smaller, shorter or slimmer. _

**Word Count **\- 606

* * *

**The Sharp Sting Of Lost Innocence**

* * *

When he'd been younger, Rabastan had been so impatient to grow up. He wanted to be bigger, stronger, smarter, just like his big brother.

He'd idolised Rodolphus for as long as he could remember, and in turn, Rodolphus had always been there for him. He'd been the one that fixed Rabastan up when he fell, the one to teach him to read, the one to help him understand the basics of magic that all Purebloods were instructed on in their youth.

Rodolphus had been the one to shelter Rabastan from their father's vicious temper too, though Rabastan hadn't known until later.

_Until he was grown enough to feel the sharp sting of his father's hand on his cheek. _

The year Rodolphus went to Hogwarts, Rabastan had cried at the train station. He'd waved until the train was no longer in sight, and then his mother had cleaned him up and warned him to pull himself together before they got home.

Rabastan hadn't understood why his mother was so adamant that he show no sign of his sadness in front of his father. Surely his father would understand that Rabastan missed his brother.

Surely his father would be there to step in and take over Rodolphus' teaching with Rabastan, now that his brother was no longer there.

_Later, Rabastan would realise that those had been the thoughts of naivety and innocence. They didn't last long after Rodolphus left. _

The fist was unexpected. His father had been yelling, though Rabastan wasn't entirely sure what about. Rabastan had cowered in front of him though, as his face reddened with anger and he got louder.

He'd been looking at the floor when the fist met his cheek, and he stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. His cheek burned, and he raised his hand to lay it against the painful area. He felt… he didn't know how he felt.

Shocked? Surprised? Betrayed? Wounded?

All of the above and so much more. His father stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head with disgust before he stalked out of the room without a backwards glance.

Rabastan slid down the wall, pressing himself into the corner of the room, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could.

He curled in on himself, and he cried. Cried because it hurt, cried because he didn't know what else to do, cried because Rodolphus wasn't here to fix it like he always had before.

_If he'd known when he was small that he would be growing up to this, he wouldn't have been so impatient to be bigger, stronger or smarter. _

Rodolphus came home for Christmas and held him tightly for long minutes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, against Rabastan's hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to shield you from this."

He was only a little over a year older that Rabastan, but he'd always seemed much older, much wiser, much stronger.

Rabastan wondered if he'd ever curled up in a corner to cry the way Rabastan did often, but he found it unlikely. In Rabastan's mind, Rodolphus would take their father's anger and stand firm in the face of it.

Brave. Defiant. Protective.

Standing in Rodolphus' embrace, Rabastan could, for a moment, pretend to be small again. He could shrink in on himself, because Rodolphus was there to look after him again, to shield and protect him from everything that was bad.

"Come on," Rodolphus said, pulling back just enough that he could look down at Rabastan. "I've got some things from Hogwarts to show you."

And just like that, Rabastan felt safe. This was normal. This was home.

* * *

**Written for; **

365 - 26. Unlikely

1000 - 338. Curling up in a corner to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

_Written for Assignment 4; Ancient Studies, Task 4. Write about a cult._

**Word Count** \- 1566

* * *

**(un)safe haven**

* * *

_She run as fast as she could until she couldn't run any more. Tears streaked her face, and bruises were already blossoming on her pale skin._

_The war had been going on for months, and yet, she was still surprised that it had come to her village._

_It had been something that was happening to the world; not something that was happening to her._

_Her family were gone, her home demolished. Hannah had no idea what she was going to do now._

_With nowhere to go, and nobody to turn to, Hannah was on her own._

...

"What are you doing here?" Terry hissed, tugging her across the room to a quiet corner. She'd been so happy to see him when she'd arrived, a familiar face from school exactly what she needed.

He wasn't happy to see her though.

Hannah whimpered when his thumb pressed into a bruise at her wrist and moved with him willingly, not wanting to exacerbate her injuries.

"I was looking for somewhere to hide," she whispered, when he pushed her gently against the wall, blocking her view of the room. "A woman found me hiding in the forest a few miles away, she brought me here. I just wanted somewhere to be safe."

Terry closed his eyes. "You didn't find it," he said. "We need to get you out of here."

Confused, Hannah shook her head. "I have nowhere else to go, Terry! Everyone in my family is dead! The only reason I'm still alive is because I run like a coward instead of fighting for them."

"Hannah," Terry sighed. "It's not… it's not safe for you here."

"Why not?"

"Look around you," he said, shifting so she could see over his shoulder. "Look at the people, and tell me what you don't see."

Hannah blinked but did as she was instructed. It took her a moment, but understanding dawned slowly and she frowned, taking in the people again.

"Everyone has dark hair," she murmured. "Except for me."

"Right," Terry agreed. "This is Lockhart's place. You remember him from school, right?"

She nodded. "Didn't he have an accident with his memory though?"

Terry snorted. "He escaped the hospital in the confusion of the attack there. He's built this place from nothing, gathering people to him slowly. Many of the people here, they _worship_ him. It's… nauseating."

"Why are you here then?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"My family are dead too, Han," he admitted. "I found this place by accident and just… it's a place to exist, right?"

"So… what's the deal with the blonde hair, then?" she asked.

"I don't fully understand it," he admitted. "But whenever someone with blonde hair arrives, they're treated like royalty for a few days and then… they disappear. I don't… I think… this is going to sound ridiculous but… I think he sacrifices them to some sort of ritual."

Hannah blinked. "You're right, that does sound ridiculous. You're making it sound like some sort of cult!"

Terry nodded slowly. "That's… that's exactly what it is."

"That's crazy talk, Terry," Hannah scoffed. "It's probably just a coincidence or something. No ritual that I know of requires a blonde!"

She shook her head and stepped passed him. "I appreciate that you're trying to help me, Terry, but… I think the war's made you paranoid."

…

Hannah was given a pillow made of silk. She was given warm blankets, and fed hot soup and allowed a long hot shower. It was heaven, and as she settled down on the softest mattress imaginable, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in what felt like forever.

Terry's warning floated through her mind but she forcefully pushed it away. He was paranoid. That was the only explanation for his insanity.

Closing her eyes, Hannah let herself drift off to sleep.

…

From outside, the building looked abandoned and worn, but inside, many of the rooms were opulent and beautiful. Hannah noticed there was an abundance of the colour gold, and many shades of blue.

The people were… odd, though. Hannah recognised some of them from the years above her at Hogwarts. Many of them avoided her, though she often felt eyes on her back wherever she was in the building.

The feeling of being watched put her on edge, but she tried her hardest to dismiss the feeling.

Terry hadn't attempted to speak with her again, but she often saw him loitering in the corner of a room, eyes sad and drawn, brow constantly pinched with concern. She wished she knew the words to tell him that she was fine, that she'd be fine.

That his concern was unwarranted because nobody was going to sacrifice her because of her hair colour.

She didn't have the words though, and so she held her silence. She spent her days exploring the building. She tried to start conversations a few times, only for the others to walk away from her, or even on a few occasions, leave the room as soon as she entered.

It made her uncomfortable, and after so long spent afraid and running, being surrounded by people who didn't want to speak with her only made her feel even more lonely than she had when she'd been alone.

It was that feeling that made her wonder if Terry had been right that she should leave. Not because she bought into the idea that they planned to sacrifice her, but because being lonely on her own was much easier than being lonely while surrounded by people.

…

"Hello, my dear."

Hannah startled, looking up to see Gilderoy Lockhart looming over her, his figure casting a shadow above and around her.

"Professor— I mean, uh, Mr Lockhart," she greeted awkwardly.

"Gilderoy is fine," he appeased her, sitting beside her. He was dressed in a stunning robe of blue and purple, the colours almost mesmerising in their beauty. "How are you finding our safe haven?"

"I, it's nice," she hedged. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"Of course!" he exclaimed, his hands wide and welcoming. "I have need of your assistance, if you wouldn't mind? It's just a small matter, nothing to worry about at all!"

"Um. Sure."

He smiled wide at her, and where his smile had once been charming, he suddenly looked somewhat like a shark, grinning at his prey.

"Thank you, my dear. I'll collect you this evening, yes?"

She nodded cautiously. "What is it you need me to do?" she asked.

"Just a little matter, dear," he replied. "I'll explain the details later."

He stood and smiled down at her, his hand stroking her head. As he lowered it, gripping the long strands of his hair, she thought she saw his eyes flash greedily. "Such beautiful hair, you have, my dear."

"I… thank you?"

He released her and stepped away, sweeping from the room. Hannah watched him go with an uncomfortable squirming sensation in her stomach.

…

"So… you might have been right."

Terry's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I met Gilderoy today," she murmured, sitting close to him. "He's asked for my assistance with a matter this evening and I just… there was something weird about it. And he… he complimented my hair."

She knew she sounded ridiculous but…

"Tonight's the new moon," Terry replied, looking around them cautiously. "I… I've been following the lunar cycle. You know. Just in case."

Hannah's heart sunk. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Run."

"Run where? There's nowhere to go, Terry! The world is in shambles!"

Terry sighed and nodded. "I know. I… I could go with you?"

Hannah shook her head. "You're safe here, Terry. I'll be okay. I just… I just have to find my new… place in the world, I suppose."

"Look after yourself," he whispered, reaching a hesitant hand over to squeeze her knee. "Be careful, okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I. Thanks. For warning me. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Terry's lips tilted into a wry smile. "I wouldn't have believed me either. It's nuts."

…

She waited until the last possible moment, and then slipped from her room. The corridors were eerily silent and still, the moon casting shadows through the windows. She made it to the main double doors without running into anyone, and opened it as quietly as she could, just wide enough for her to shift through the opening.

And then, she _run_.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she didn't understand why. She didn't even know that she was in danger!

She ran through the field surrounding the building, looking for somewhere, anywhere she could sit and gather herself, but there was nothing. It was almost wasteland like, though the grass was lush and tickling her ankles as she run.

She slowed to catch her breath, the panting and the stitch in her side making it hard for her to keep going.

A rustle behind her made her spin around, and she saw a quick flash of blue and purple, highlighted by the moon and then—

…

There was chanting when she woke. She struggled against the bindings, but the rope rubbed at her bare skin, making her cry out in pain.

Gilderoy Lockhart stood above her, his pearly teeth shining in the moonlight.

"Really my dear," he said quietly, when he saw her eyes wide. "Did you expect to escape so easily? I think not."

* * *

**Written for; **

365 - 20. Require

1000 - 572. Pillow


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Written for Assignment 5; Linage Studies, Task 4 - Write about Morfin Gaunt _

_Other Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Word Count - **742

**Warning - **Insanity, character death.

* * *

**They Can't Take That Away **

* * *

You watch her through suspicious eyes. She's up to no good and you know it, though so far, you've been unable to prove it. She's enamoured with the Muggle, you see her watch him when he passes on his horse.

The whispers tell you that she wants to go to him. They tell you that she wants to leave, wants to abandon the family home for a life with the worthless man, just because he's _pretty. _

Just like your mother did.

You know Merope is just like your mother, know that all women are the same. They can't be trusted. Your father made sure you grew up with that knowledge, that women will do naught but cause pain.

You take a swig from the bottle of firewhisky, snatch it from the table before she can move it as she cleans. She flinches from your hand and you feel a shiver of satisfaction. Keep her scared, keep her helpless, and she'll never be able to abandon you.

…

_Morfin cackled loudly, his wand still in his hand. "Not so pretty, covered in boils, is he?" _

_Merope whimpered as the parseltongue slipped from Morfin's lips, but he paid her no mind. It was their given right to speak the language of the snake, and she should be stronger, should be proud of their heritage. _

"_Even if he weren't a worthless Muggle, he wouldn't want you," he taunted cruelly. "You're a mess, Merope. A mess!"_

…

You sit in your cell in Azkaban, huddled in the corner beneath a threadbare blanket. Your voice is too hoarse to scream anymore, has been for months. Each time the dementors visit your cell, you're forced to watch your mother leave, a bag in her hand.

She didn't even look back when you banged against your window.

You've never known why she left but you _hate _her for it.

It was then that your father begun your lessons. It was then that he explained to you the many sins of women, the pain they caused and the devastation they left in their wake when they inevitably left.

You hung on his words, because they made sense. Why else would your mother have left you, if not because she was wired that way?

…

_Morfin fought against the hands on his arms. He was weak, the years in Azkaban sapping whatever strength he'd had in his frame, but he still fought. _

"_Get off me!" he hissed, not realising he was speaking parseltongue and pulling away when the hands holding him flinched off him. _

"_Sign of the devil that," a voice murmured, followed by two more voicing their agreement. "I don't understand why we're not just leaving him here to rot." _

"_S'the law. He got sentenced to three years, he's served 'em." _

_Morfin blinked up at his attackers, his mind slow to comprehend their words. He was going home. _

…

You returned to an empty house.

They told you of your father's death, of Merope's, but you're still somehow surprised to see the house empty. It's yours now, and yours alone.

You rattle around the rooms restlessly. There's nobody there for you to talk to, nobody there to release your anger on, nobody there at all.

You sink into a haze of alcohol and insanity and don't surface for a very long time. It's easier that way. In your mind, at least you're not alone. The whispers keep you company.

…

_The Aurors arrived in force, and Morfin waited at the door for them, whisky bottle swinging from his hand. _

"_Morfin Gaunt, you're under arrest for the murder of a family of Muggles!" _

"_I did it," he cackled. "I did it, and I'd do it again!" _

_He fired spells at the approaching Aurors until they overpowered him, and then he went with them, cackling all the way. _

"_It felt so _good," _he told them later, when they questioned him. "Worthless pieces of shit ruined my life, so I took theirs!" _

…

You're on the cusp of death already when they come to your cell. In a rare moment of lucidity, they tell you that you're innocent of the crimes they imprisoned you for.

You don't believe them of course. It's a trick, it has to be, because you remember attacking those muggles. You remember killing them.

It's vivid and bright in your mind, so you know you did it. It's the last memory you have.

They can't take that from you.

* * *

**Written for; **

Assorted Appreciation - 10. Write about being abandoned by a parent

Em's Emporium - 2. Someone going insane

Liza's Lodes - 1. Write about someone restless

Bex's Basement - 9. Taunting someone

Alphabetti Spaghetti - P - Parseltongue

Around the World - Bastets - Enamoured

Mythology - 1. Being abandoned

Pop Figure - Valkyrie - 2. Firewhisky

Women's History - 13. Someone insane

365\. 47. Snatch

1000\. 892. Gaunt Family


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Written for assignment 5; Muggle Art, Task 3 - Write about a Lily _

_Other Challenges listed at the bottom._

**Word Count** \- 713

**Pairing **\- LilyAlice

**Warning **\- University!au, Slice of life.

* * *

**Not Far From Heaven **

* * *

Lily studied the drawing on her paper, moving it around carefully. She loved drawing, so this was one of her favourite parts of her work. She probably took much more time on this than most everyone else, but she figured, eventually, it would mean her final product was just that much better.

University was everything she'd hoped it would be, and yet, so much more. She'd met the most wonderful people, her classes were engaging and interesting, and she was just having the time of her life.

Lily had never been so happy before, and much of that was because of Alice.

They'd met on their first day at the university, both excited and nervous in equal measures, and they'd bonded immediately. Friends on that first day, they'd started dating three months later and had been together ever since.

Every time she looked at her, she still got that flutter of excitement in her tummy, the anticipation of what would come next in their relationship still fresh even nine months in.

"Special delivery," Alice said, stepping into the lab. She tossed a lime green packet at Lily, who caught it with the tips of her fingers.

"Lab safety has completely died," Lily said shaking her head. Her eyes lit up when she looked down at the packet of Ice Mice in her hands. "I love you."

"Heathen," Alice muttered. "They're gross."

Lily scowled. "They're the best. This is a hill I would die on!"

Alice stared at her for a long moment. "Why are you like this?"

Lily crossed the lab and kissed Alice chastely on the lips. "You love me."

"You're not wrong," Alice replied, as she snagged Lily around the waist and pulled her closer for a longer, deeper kiss. "I've got to run an experiment, you sticking around for a while?"

Lily nodded. "I can work here as well as anywhere else."

"Good." Alice kissed the tip of Lily's nose. "We can go eat after."

…

The bang made Lily look up, and she almost choked on her tongue when she saw Alice standing in front of her equipment, smoke drifting around her and ash in her face.

"Well. That was unexpected," Alice said, blinking down at the smoking test tube. She was utterly composed and calm, and it was that, more than anything else, that set Lily off laughing.

Alice looked up at the sound, looking vaguely surprised, as though she'd forgotten Lily was even there.

"That… went a bit wrong?" she admitted.

"Write the process you used down, and study it later, see if you can make changes," Lily suggested through her giggles.

"I, yeah," Alice agreed, looking around for something to write on.

Lily snorted, getting up and offering Alice a notebook and pen, which Alice took gratefully, immediately doing as she suggested.

"I, uh, think I'm done for the day," Alice said, once her fevered writing came to a stop. "I need food. And cuddles. And kisses. Not necessarily in that order."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "You need a shower before any of that," she said. "You smell like smoke and chemicals."

Alice rolled her eyes. "You still love me."

…

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Lily complained, as she watched James and Sirius throw pieces of chicken at each other. "Why do we come here?"

Alice snickered. "Because as much as you like to complain, these idiots are our friends."

"Seems like bad life choices," Lily sniffed.

Sirius looked at her, raising a hand to his chest mockingly. "I'm wounded, Lily! _Wounded_!"

"You will be wounded if you carry on," she muttered, shaking her head. She turned to look at Remus. "How do you put up with him?"

"Meditation. Lots and lots of meditation."

Alice laughed and Lily grinned. Yeah, these were her people, even if some of them were… questionable.

…

"Today has been so long," Alice complained, as they climbed into bed that night. "Why can't we just live in bed where I can just cuddle you all day?"

Lily shifted across the bed into Alice's waiting embrace and sighed. "That sounds… like heaven. But… what we have… it's not far from heaven anyway, is it?"

Alice kissed her head. "It's really, really not. I love you."

Lily closed her eyes. "I love you too."

* * *

**Written for; **

Assorted Appreciation - 11. Keeping composure when things go wrong

Disney - D5. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

Showtime - 7. Femslash

Attic - 15. Someone who enjoys drawing

Love in Motion - Fem - LilyAlice

Em's Emporium - 5. University!au

Arcade - 4. Navi - Flutter / looking for something / Alice Longbottom

Alphabet - I - Ice Mice

Around the World - 1. Papyrus Scroll - Writing

Mythology - 29. "This is a hill I would die on."

Pop Figure - Gert Yorkes - Happy / Calm / "Why are you like this?" / Kissing

365\. 51. Delivery

1000\. 933. Lime


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Word Count** \- 2177

_Beta'd by Emily_

**Pairing - **LuciusMarlene

**Warning **\- Character Death and Adultery

_For Jen, who inspires my muse with odd pairings. I love you. _

* * *

**Dirty Little Secret **

* * *

_She walked slowly along the aisle, her fingers drifting across the book spines as she searched for the one she needed. The library was quiet, almost completely empty, just the way she preferred it. _

_She knew most people were outside, enjoying the first nice day they'd had for a while, but she'd decided to get a headstart on the weekend's homework. _

_A throat cleared, and she looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing at the opposite end of the shelves. He beckoned her over with a crook of his long finger, and she frowned, looking around to see if there was somebody behind her. _

_When she was sure he was beckoning her, her frown only deepened. _

_Lucius Malfoy had absolutely no reason whatsoever to want to talk to her. He was a Slytherin in the year above her, and… well, as far as Marlene knew, he'd never so much as looked at her before. _

_She stopped in front of him and waited, nerves jangling. He offered her a book, and a glance at the front showed that it was the one she'd been searching for. _

"_How did you know?" she asked, accepting the book from him. _

_He smirked. "Lucky guess." _

_He turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone, staring after him. When he reached the doors, he looked back over his shoulder and winked. _

…

The battle was fierce, and Marlene was barely managing to keep herself safe. When she'd joined the Order straight out of school, the meetings could never have prepared her for this.

Everywhere she looked, another fight was happening, spells were flying and painful cries rent the air. Nearby, she could see Alice and Lily fighting side by side, and across the field, James, Sirius and Frank were facing a group of five masked figures.

_Lucius could be behind one of these masks_, her mind offered up. She lost her focus for a moment and had to roll out of the way of a shot of green. It missed her by _inches. _

Despite knowing who and what he was, Marlene had never actually thought about the concept of facing him in battle.

The Lucius that wore the Dark Mark wasn't _her _Lucius, after all.

…

"_Why are you following me?" she asked quietly. _

_He stepped out of the shadows, his hair seeming suddenly luminous in the moonlight streaming in from window. _

"_You… intrigue me, Miss McKinnon. I wish to know more about you." _

_Marlene snorted. "And to do that, you decided that handing me books in the library and stalking me on my prefect rounds was the way to go? Really?" _

_His lips thinned for a moment. "It is not as though I can approach you openly. There are limitations that I must work around." _

"_Oh. You can't be seen with a Gryffindor known to be light minded?" _

_He quirked his eyebrow and nodded. _

"_Well," she sighed. "I'm not interested in being _anyone's _dirty little secret, so you might as well head back to your common room." _

_He shook his head. "In these _dangerous _times, I think I'll stick around. I cannot have my prefects being hurt or caught unawares, after all." _

"_Your prefects?" _

"_I am Headboy, Miss McKinnon. You're my responsibility, no?" _

_Marlene shook her head. "That's… not how that works." _

_Lucius smirked. "Well. Perhaps it should be." _

…

"Were you hurt?"

She shook her head. "A few bruises and minor grazes, nothing to worry about."

He stroked a gentle hand over her cheek. "I wish you wouldn't insist on fighting this war. I worry about you."

Marlene looked up to meet his eyes. "Right back at you."

Lucius snorted but said nothing else. He tugged her close, and wrapped his arms around her. Her head automatically fell to rest on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and comforting.

"Were you there?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

She pulled back and looked at him again. "Lucius. Were you there?"

He held her gaze for a long moment and then shook his head. "No. I wasn't. I was… otherwise occupied."

She couldn't stop the relief from flowing through her, but she could ignore it. They were at war, on opposing sides. One day, they'd come face to face on the battlefield, it was inevitable.

…

_She tried to keep him at arm's length. He joined her on almost all of her patrols after that first one, falling into step beside her. _

_He was intelligent, and he drew her into conversations about her classes, about the happenings in the world, about the Ministry news. Things most of her classmates had no interest in talking about. _

_He listened when she spoke, and showed real interest in her thoughts and opinions. He made her feel… worthy. _

_She started looking forward to seeing him, and many times, she saw something in the paper or found something in a book and immediately wanted to speak with him about it. _

_It hurt, than in the presence of others, he looked through her as though she wasn't there. _

_The first time he kissed her, it was at the top of the Astronomy tower and she laughed at him for being a cliche. It was the first time she saw him blush, his cheeks hinting a rosy colour that she wanted to photograph._

"_That can't happen again," she said, raising a hand to touch at her lips. They almost burned, as though she could feel an imprint of his lips against them. _

_He frowned. "Why not?" _

"_We… just shouldn't," Marlene replied. "It's not good for either of us." _

_Lucius shook his head. "I don't accept that. You are _so _good for me, Marlene. I cannot get enough of you." _

"_We can never… be open, Lucius. I don't want to live that way."_

_He frowned, but sighed and turned his head away. It wasn't an admittance of defeat but it felt like one regardless. _

…

He twirled strands of her hair between his fingers. They were luxuriating in having somewhere private, just for them. Her flat, protected by only the strongest of spells, had become their safe haven since she'd left Hogwarts, and she always loved having him there with her.

"There's something I need to tell you," he murmured.

Marlene looked up, frowning when she saw the look on his face. Usually, Lucius was open and honest when it was just the two of them, but she was looking at the blank face the rest of the world saw.

"What is it?"

"Narcissa is pregnant."

Marlene blinked. "Okay."

He stared at her for a long moment. "That's it?"

"You married her almost a year ago, Lucius. I was expecting it. I don't know what you're expecting me to say?"

"I… think I expected shouting and possibly you throwing something at me."

Marlene laughed, leaning back into his side. "There's nothing I can do about your public life, Lucius. I gave up wishing for more than what we have a long time ago. If this is all I can have… then so be it."

"I… thank you. For…" he seemed to struggle to find the words he needed and buried his face against her hair. "Thank you for loving me despite the fact that I can never wholly be yours."

…

"_It was… torturous, to watch you in the Three Broomsticks with Black today." _

_His tone was almost conversational, and it took her a moment to understand his words. She turned to look at him and raised her eyebrow. _

"_Almost as torturous as it was to see news of your betrothal in the Prophet, I imagine." _

_Lucius chuckled. "Touche. But… my jealousy insisted I tell you how abhorrent I found it. I wanted to string him up when he put his hands on you. Only _I _should be allowed to touch you like that. You're an enchantress, Marlene. You have me entirely under your spell." _

_Marlene laughed, she couldn't help herself. "I thought Malfoys were supposed to be smooth! That was cheesier than anything I've ever heard!"_

_He shook his head and took her hand in his own, squeezing lightly. "No less true, though. I love it when you laugh, Marlene. You should do it more often." _

_Marlene looked down at their joined hands and smiled lightly. There wasn't much to laugh about, with the state of the world as it was, but she appreciated the thought. _

"_Well, keep on being so cheesy, and you'll likely hear much more of it." _

…

The sweat still cooling on their naked bodies, they flopped back against the pillows of the plush bed, panting heavily. Lucius' hand caressed her skin, painting nonsensical patterns with the very tips of his fingers.

Marlene turned her head to look at him.

This was her favourite Lucius; relaxed and pliant, sated and warm. He met her eyes and smiled slowly, a genuine happiness shining from his grey eyes.

"That, my dear, was fantastic."

Marlene smirked, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. "Isn't it always?"

He nodded, and shifted his head to press his lips against the corner of her eye. "Indeed."

They lay for a few more minutes before, as always, his limbs started to tense up. He gently moved her so she was no longer leaning on him and sat up, his blond hair a messy halo around his face.

Angel, he certainly was not, but in that moment, he looked like one.

Marlene couldn't help but admire him as he stood, unconcerned with his nakedness. He dressed efficiently, no move wasted, and he didn't turn to look at her until he was wearing his full armour.

It was the way she'd always thought of his expensive robes. Once he was wearing them, he turned into an entirely different person.

"I must leave. I'll see you next week?"

She nodded, swallowing down the wish for him to stay for a while. She knew he wouldn't, had long given up on asking for him too. He had a pregnant wife to go home to, after all.

Lucius rounded the bed and leant down, pressing a kiss to her lips as though he could read the morbid turn of her thoughts and wanted to help.

Not that anything could help, but she appreciated that he tried.

"Be careful," he murmured against her lips.

She didn't open her eyes until she heard the tell tale crack of Apparition that signalled his leaving, and when she did open then, she didn't even attempt to stem the tears.

…

_They stood on opposing sides of a private room in the Three Broomsticks. Marlene couldn't hold her temper, her hurt, and she lashed out, throwing her hands in the air. _

"_You're getting married, Lucius! It's not like you'll ever really be mine!" _

_She fought her tears back, unwilling to show him just how much he was breaking her heart, but it was hard. Not that she could blame him; she'd known it was coming. He was a Malfoy, it was expected that he'd marry his betrothed as soon as they were both finished with their schooling. _

_He crossed the small room to wrap his arm around her but she pushed him away. _

"_Don't do that," she whispered, wrapping her own arms around herself. "Don't try and make me feel better. This isn't going to get better." _

"_I have to marry her," Lucius murmured, stepping closer again. "I have no choice, Marlene. I have to give her my hand. I cannot, however, be forced to give her my heart. That is yours, and yours alone." _

_Marlene lost the battle with her tears, and swiped them away angrily. "What good is your heart when I can't have _you_?" _

"_I can still… I'll find a way. I'll still be able to see you. Just… in secret. As we do now." _

"_I told you, Lucius, I don't want to be a dirty little secret. Before any of this… I told you that." _

_When he reached for her this time, she was too weak to push him away. _

"_Will you really turn what little we can have away?" he asked softly. "Will you break my heart, Marlene, and tell me no?" _

"_You know I won't," she whispered almost silently. She didn't add that even though he was breaking her heart, she would never break his. _

…

He knew what he was walking into, and yet he couldn't stop himself. Her body had been moved, but all the signs of the fight were still there.

The sofa they'd spent hours talking on, obliterated.

The bed they'd made love on more times that Lucius could count, annihilated.

The gold mirror that hung in the hallway, shattered.

His mask hid the tears streaming freely down his cheeks as he took in the mess and destruction his comrades had wreaked here. He'd heard about the attack too late to warn her.

Coming here had been a mistake, he knew. He should have kept his memories pure, thought of her happy and healthy and… whole. Not this.

He'd never wanted this. Not for her.

Not for Marlene.

His heart.

* * *

**Written for;**

Disney - S4. Falling in love

Showtime - 12. Heartbreak

Arcade - Cia - Enchantress / beckoning someone over / jealous

Around the World - Scarab - Gold

Alphabetti Spaghetti - T - Three Broomsticks

365\. 46. Healthy

1000\. 913. Jealous


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Challenges listed at the bottom._

**Word count **\- 1848

**Warning - **Character Death

* * *

**The Losing Side **

* * *

The battle was horrific. Spells were flying through the air, and she had no idea who had even cast them. Smoke in the corridors meant that visibility was awful, and Hermione was almost hit with a green flash more than once.

She was scared of using stronger spells in case they hit the people she was fighting with, instead of those she was fighting against.

Eventually she found her way to the Great Hall. As she entered the battle there, a high, horrible voice interrupted them, ordering them to dispose of their dead with dignity.

Lord Voldemort was giving them an hour to lay down their wands and accept defeat.

How _magnanimous _of him.

Hermione quickly found the Weasleys, and Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. This was a mess, and there was no end in sight. Ever since Harry had gone missing, the light had fallen into dire straits. Even this battle was proof of that; never would Hermione have expected Dumbledore to allow the students of Hogwarts to be put in such danger.

He stood at the head table with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, their heads low and their whispers urgent.

Hermione watched them for a long moment before she shook her head. Never before had he seemed so human to her.

Madam Pomfrey, with a group of students and a few adults Hermione didn't recognise, bustled around the hall, treating the injured as best she could in the time they had. Hermione knew they wouldn't be bowing to Voldemort, even if that meant they would all die here this eve.

She wondered how many others knew the truth of that.

She wondered how many people in this hall knew it was their own fault that this was happening in the first place.

If they'd only treated Harry better… if they'd only paid more attention to him, without believing every last word the Prophet wrote about him… maybe he'd still be here to protect them from this.

Maybe he'd still be here to give them hope.

Instead he'd been caught over the summer, when they'd all been living their lives happily. He'd been caught and killed from the one place Dumbledore had assured them all he was safe.

Hermione looked back at the Headmaster and sighed. She knew she couldn't lump all of the blame on his shoulders, and she was sure that she couldn't make him feel any guiltier than he already felt.

She'd seen it in his eyes when he'd informed them of Harry's capture and subsequent death.

If only one of them had been paying more attention…

Hermione pressed her face against Ron's shoulder and his arms tightened around her on reflex. 'If only' wouldn't get them anywhere.

The clock ticked down to dawn, and a rumbling outside told them of the army marching towards them. All around her, people were preparing themselves to fight.

When the doors opened, she gripped her wand tightly and raised it, as ready as she would ever be.

Except. Except, she wasn't ready for what she saw. Voldemort led his army, and he stepped into the Great Hall like he belonged there; like he wasn't there to destroy the lives of so many people.

At his side though…

"Harry?"

"Harry!"

"HARRY!"

He looked in their direction, and Hermione froze as she met his emerald eyes. Once upon a time, they'd looked upon her with warmth and fondness. They'd sparkled when he laughed.

Now though, they were colder than she'd ever seen before. He only looked at her for a moment, before he turned his attention to the Headmaster, who was staring at him from his place at the top of the hall. He looked paralysed, even as the teachers and the remaining Order members seemed to flock around him, all wanting to know how this changed things.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of Harry though. He looked… he looked powerful. He looked like a leader, a ruler. He looked… like a prince. His robes were made of what looked like the finest material, a dark purple that looked almost black until he moved. He no longer wore glasses, and his eyes were even greener without the barrier they provided. He stood straight and tall, his every movement graceful.

She didn't know what had happened to him, what he'd been through since the last time she'd seen him, but she couldn't help but think it suited him.

In the few moments of shock, the Death Eaters had flooded the hall, and everywhere Hermione looked, there was one close by, their wands trained on the people closest to them.

The defenders of Hogwarts were woefully outnumbered.

"Harry?" Dumbledore questioned quietly, his voice carrying in the silence of the hall.

Harry's head tilted, and he looked back at Dumbledore. "Headmaster."

A flash of green took them all by surprise. Harry simply moved to the side of the rapidly approaching spell, and it smashed harmlessly into the wall.

"And here, we all thought the light side of the war was above reproach," Voldemort mocked, shaking his head. "We haven't attacked, have we? That was unnecessary, Albus, you should train your dogs better."

Hermione watched Harry even as Voldemort spoke. His eyes were on the offending caster, and she wasn't surprised to see Snape glaring back at him.

Harry raised his hand, and Hermione frowned when she realised that he wasn't even holding his wand. Slowly, he closed it into a fist, his eyes never leaving Snape.

Snape's face contorted with discomfort, until he actually let out a whimper of pain. Harry's fist squeezed tighter, and Snape fell to the floor, screaming in anguish.

Voldemort laid a hand on Harry's shoulder gently, and as simple as that, Harry relinquished whatever savage spell he'd been using, leaving Snape face down on the floor, panting harshly.

Bellatrix cackled madly to the side. "Well done, Little Lord," she murmured, her appreciation and approval clear for everyone to hear.

Harry's lips tilted in amusement as he glanced at her.

"Are you planning to continue the fight, Albus?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes alight with glee. "Are you too proud to admit defeat? Will you truly allow these people who look up to you, who _worship _you, to die for you?"

His words were spoken quietly enough, but there was an aggressive edge to his tone that Hermione couldn't quite place.

"I cannot allow you to win, Tom. You know that," Dumbledore replied solemnly, his blue eyes never leaving Harry.

"It's not really a matter of what you'll allow, any longer, _Albus_."

"I'm tired of the fighting, Tom," Harry murmured softly. "I know you like a production, but can we get on with this?"

"Harry, this is not you," Dumbledore said, his tone calming, as though speaking to a spooked animal. "I do not know what Tom has said to you, what he's promised you, but you must know he is using you. He doesn't care about you, Harry, he doesn't know how."

"You mean like you care?" Harry asked, his eyebrow arching.

"I _do _care about you, Harry," Dumbledore replied firmly. "All I ever wanted for you was a normal life, a life that wasn't filled with violence and pain. I tried to shield you from that for as long as I could."

"You left him with abusive muggles," a voice sneered from behind a mask, close to Tom's side. "You left him to be beaten and starved and ignored for years without ever checking on him. If that is your way of caring, I believe Harry is more assuredly better off with us. _We _will look after him."

Hermione was surprised by the protective tone of the voice. She knew the voice, of course she did, Lucius Malfoy was unmistakable, but to hear him speak like that about _Harry… _it was unfathomable.

"If that is how it must be…" Voldemort shook his head and his wand slipped into his hand. "Then so be it."

The words seemed to be what he Death Eaters were waiting for. Around the room, people were slumping to the floor, dead or stunned. Hermione didn't know what to do for the best. She didn't want to let Harry down again, but…

She couldn't fight for Voldemort. She _wouldn't. _

"_Protego_."

It was said quietly, but a spell bounced off the shield Hermione hadn't cast. She looked around wildly and realised she, along with the Weasleys, were in a protective bubble. Never before had she seen the shielding charm do that, but when she looked up and saw Harry staring at them, his eyes gleaming, she realised it was his doing.

After what he'd done to Snape, she fully believed him capable of just about whatever he wanted to do.

She watched, her hand covering her mouth and tears streaming from her eyes, as the Death Eater's systematically took the light side apart. Voldemort and Dumbledore battled in the middle of the hall, Harry watching on critically.

Dumbledore was still talking, practically begging Harry for help now, but Harry stared on impassively at his every word.

Hermione knew the moment Voldemort took the advantage, and she couldn't stop her whimper when Dumbledore eventually fell, eyes rolling back in his head and his wand soaring into Voldemort's hand.

He caught it, victorious and stared down at the wand for a long moment, before he turned, and presented it to Harry.

Harry took it, inspecting it carefully and then looked up to meet Voldemort's eyes.

Then, without a word, he snapped the wand in half.

"What would you have us do with them, Little Lord?" Lucius asked, nodding to the bubble holding Hermione and the Weasleys.

Harry tilted his head and the bubble released. They all gripped their wands, unsure as to what was going to come next.

"I don't want to kill you," Harry said quietly, watching them. "You showed me kindness, at least for a few years. You were the first to do so."

"How could you join him, Harry. He murdered your parents!" Molly shouted, her voice choked as she cried. "How could you?"

"My reasons are my own," Harry said simply. "If you agree to leave the castle, to keep your heads down and live your lives, you'll be free to go."

"And if we don't?" Arthur asked, his voice impressively flat.

"Then you will be killed," Harry replied.

"You bring shame to your family, Harry Potter," Molly snarled, raising her wand. "I won't support a murderer!"

Her family nodded, and Ron's hand squeezed Hermione's. She knew she could separate herself from him, could choose to live, but…

Her feet were frozen to the floor.

Harry nodded slowly. "Then you've made your choice. Bellatrix? Make it quick please, I'd like to go home."

He turned away and stepped back, taking his place at Voldemort's side.

"Harry," Hermione whimpered. "Don't do this."

He didn't even look back. Hermione's last thought was a wonder if she'd made the right choice. She'd picked the losing side, and for what?

The green spell struck her chest and she knew no more.

* * *

**Written for; **

Disney; T3. Write about being on the losing side.

Showtime; 9. Protego

Arcade; Ganondorf - Dark Purple / Aggressive / Savage

Around The World - Ramadan Lantern - Dawn

365\. 39. Flock

1000\. 920. Protective


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

Written for Assignment 5; Elemental Magic, Task 1 - Someone getting caught in the rain.

_Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Pairing **\- OliverPercy

**Word Count** \- 1185

_Beta'd by Sam_

* * *

**I'm Here With You (Even When I'm Not)**

* * *

He straightened his tie and stared into the mirror, adjusting his formal navy robes until they fell properly around him. He wasn't ready for this; but then, he never would be.

His little brother…

It shouldn't have been Fred. Percy didn't know who it should have been, but it shouldn't have been Fred. Maybe it should have been Percy himself; he'd done more to deserve death than Fred ever had.

He could hear sounds of movement around the Burrow, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his old room. He knew he should go and comfort his family, should see if anyone needed help with anything, or even if someone just wanted a hug but he couldn't.

He had no right to offer comfort or seek it for himself here.

The clock was ticking closer and closer to the moment they would gather to lay Fred to rest, and Percy begged it silently to slow down. He needed the clock to just _stop _for a moment, because he wasn't ready and he didn't know how to _be _ready.

"Percy?"

He hadn't even noticed the door opening, but his mum stood in the doorway. Her eyes were already red and swollen, and her skin was blotchy and pale. She had a black lace veil half covering her face, but it did nothing to hide her grief.

"It's almost time to leave, dear. Come downstairs."

Percy nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll be there in a minute, Mum."

She tried to smile at him, and he appreciated her effort. He wished he could take her pain away, but of course, he couldn't. He couldn't take any of their pain away. Fred… he was gone, and nothing Percy did or said could change that now.

…

The river flowed at a gentle pace, unhurried as it made its way downstream. Percy walked along the bank, his tie untied and loose around his neck, his robes muddy around the hem. Never had he cared less about his appearance.

He remembered better times on this river, running down the bank with Oliver, picnics with his siblings, even fishing a time or two with his dad.

A crash of thunder in the distance made him jump, and he looked up in time for a raindrop to splash onto his cheek. He thought about turning around and heading home but he really didn't want to face anyone.

Besides, if he got sick from being caught in the rain like an idiot, it would only be his own fault, right? Nothing he didn't deserve.

He carried on his way, the torrent of rain soaking his robes in minutes.

"It's raining."

Percy looked up and blinked.

"Oliver?"

"You're soaking wet, Perce. You could have at least conjured an umbrella, you prat."

Percy frowned at Oliver, ignoring the chastisement for the more important question. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Remember when we were younger?" Oliver asked, his eyes on the river. "We used to come here all the time in the summer. I thought you might be here."

Percy sighed. "I… yeah. I guess… I guess I wanted to be reminded of something… happy. Normal. Something that isn't so soul destroying."

"Let's walk for a bit," Oliver murmured. "But conjure an umbrella, would you. I don't want you to get sick."

Percy nodded and cast the spell for an umbrella. He raised it up over both of their heads and they fell into step together.

It had been a long time since they'd been together, never mind alone together. Just another failure to add to Percy's already impressive list, he supposed.

They'd been in love, once upon a time, before Percy threw everything important away for the Ministry.

"I really, really want to poke you in the eye right now," Oliver commented lightly. "You're having the world's worst pity party and I'm already bored of it."

Percy turned his head to glare at Oliver. He'd always been supportive, if a little abrupt, and that comment wasn't like him at all. That he'd be dismissive of Percy's grief… Percy wasn't sure what to do with that.

Oliver wasn't fazed by the glaring in the slightest. "I'm sorry about Fred, Perce, I truly am. But… this feeling sorry for yourself business… It's not you, Perce. It never has been."

"We haven't seen each other in over a year," Percy reminded Oliver. "You don't know who I am these days."

"You're still Percy. Still the asshat I've always loved."

"Always?"

"I didn't just turn my feelings off because you left, Percy," Oliver snapped, before he softened and shook his head. "Sorry. I just… I wish you could see that, yes, you messed up, but it's not… you'll get a second chance, and a third or fourth or fifth if you need them because you have people that love you. One mistake doesn't have to define your life."

Percy swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

"I'm scared," he admitted quietly. "I'm scared that I'm going to keep repeating the same mistakes and losing the people I love. I… I don't know how to… move on from this, Ollie."

Oliver sighed. "Yes, the past can hurt but… the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it. So you messed up. But you didn't kill Fred, Perce. He died in a war, in a battle that could have ended the life of anyone present. Wrong place, wrong time, and… that happens in war. That… it wasn't your fault."

"He was laughing at a joke _I_ made," Percy growled. "He wasn't paying attention because _I_ distracted him! How is that not my fault?"

"You didn't kill him, Percy," Oliver sighed. He's always defended Percy from his self destructive thoughts. Percy remembered him doing that for as long as they'd known each other. Apparently he was still in the habit. "Your only real mistake was putting your ambition before things that should always be more important. You can fix that. You can pick up the pieces of that. It might take time, but you can do it. And hey, I'm always here when you need me."

Percy nodded. "I'm so tired."

"Maybe let yourself accept comfort, okay? Your family accepted you back with open arms. Let them support you, and offer them the same back. They _want _you there, Perce. Stop hiding."

"What you said earlier…" Percy paused and met Oliver's eyes. "I love you too. I… I'm sorry I let my ambition get in the way of us."

Oliver smiled. "Okay," he murmured.

"That's it?"

"I've always accepted everything about you, Percy," Oliver replied quietly, a small smile on his face. "The bad and the good."

"I know."

"Percy?"

Percy turned to see George standing close by, a clear umbrella held over his head to protect against the still falling rain.

"What are you doing?" George asked, his brow furrowed.

Percy mimicked the expression. "Talking to Oli—" he turned to see where Oliver was, only to find himself standing alone on the bank. "Where did Oliver go? Did you see where he went?"

George blinked and then an understanding expression appeared on his face. "Perce… come on Perce, let's go home."

"I… where did he go, George?"

"Come on, I'm going to show you where he went, Perce. Just… come with me."

…

_Fred Weasley was buried in the memorial garden made for the victims of the Battle of Hogwarts. Beside him, Oliver Wood was laid to rest, a firebolt engraved on his stone. _

* * *

**Written for; **

Assorted Appreciation - 3. Write about acceptance

Disney - D1. "Yes, the past can hurt, but the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it."

Book Club - Patrick - Running / Oliver Wood / Dismissive

Love In Motion - PercyOliver

Em's Emporium - 4. Picking up the pieces

Angel's Arcade - 7. Fi - Supportive / Lace / "I'm always here when you need me."

Bex's Basement - 13. Fic set on or near water

Alphabetti - O - Oliver Wood

Around the World - 9. Dressing formally for an occasion

Mythology - 10. A river

Pop Figure - Chase Stein - "I really, really want to poke you in the eye. / Bored / Scared / Defending someone

Women's History - 9. Losing a friend or family member

365\. 49. Soul

1000\. 937. Navy


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Pairing **\- PercyAudrey

**Word Count** \- 538

_Beta'd by Grandma Lizzy_

* * *

**Screwed**

* * *

"Oh my god, you actually hate me, don't you?" Percy complained, glaring at his little brother. "Why on earth would you tell our mother that?"

George had the grace to look sheepish. "Well. It was a joke. But then. She just… you know Mum, Perce. She looked so hopeful and happy and then… I couldn't tell her that I was kidding because I thought she might cry and I'm not good at tears dammit."

Percy tried to fight the chuckle, he really did, but he couldn't. George was practically going blue in the face with the lack of air as he tried to get his explanation out in one breath and, well, Percy knew he wasn't lying.

George really wasn't good when faced with crying women.

"What am I going to do?" he asked, running a hand over his face.

Before George could reply, a knock on the door sounded and then the door swung open to reveal Audrey, Percy's assistant.

"Mr Weasley? Mr Wood is on line three for you. He's insisting you speak with him because you ditched him last night."

George snorted, and Percy rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Audrey. Why don't you take your lunch a little early? We can go through the next week's schedule when you get back?"

She nodded, blushing a little as she left the room.

"Well," George said, watching her go. "I was about to say you're screwed, but… I have a plan."

Percy groaned. "Now I really _am _screwed."

…

"Audrey… I know this is entirely outside of your job description, so feel free to tell me no, but… I have a favour to ask of you."

She looked up from the paperwork they'd been going over. "What is it, Mr Weasley?"

"I… My brother, you saw him here earlier?" When she nodded, Percy continued. "He told our mother that I had a fiance, and then wimped out of owning up to the truth. I, of course, do not have a fiance but… I wondered if, perhaps, just for the weekend of her birthday… maybe youcouldpretendwithme?"

She blinked. "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, can you repeat that?"

Percy sighed. "I… I wondered if you would pretend to be my fiance for the weekend of my mother's birthday?"

"I, uh, well," Audrey stuttered, floundering for words. Percy felt bad when he saw how flustered she was and almost immediately retracted the request.

He waited though, and a few moments later, she found her voice. "Just for a weekend?"

Percy nodded, probably too eager but uncaring for his dignity.

She hesitated before nodding. "I can do that," she said, her voice quiet. "I, uh. Yes. I can do that."

…

Audrey watched as Percy pulled his car up to her building, waving when he spotted her watching through the window.

She waved back, her heart sinking at the almost goofy smile on his face. She was already nursing a crush on her boss, spending time with him outside of work…

When she stepped out onto the path leading down to where he was parked, he got out of his seat and rounded the car to open the passenger door for her.

Yeah, Audrey thought to herself. She was entirely in trouble.

* * *

**Written for Meet Cutes, Day 2** \- [A] needs a fiancée, and for him the answer's simple: his fiercely intelligent, beautiful assistant, [B], should play the role! But pretending to be [A's] fiancée threatens to ruin the life [B's] worked so hard for. How will she keep her head when she's losing her heart to her frustratingly attractive new boss?


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for** Assignment 5, Elemental Magic, Task 3 - Someone getting burnt

_Other Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Word Count **\- 1630

**Pairing** \- PeterRegulus

**Warning **\- Abuse, both physical and mental, and… angst. This is not a happy fic.

* * *

**Stained With Tears (I'm Sorry) **

* * *

He was aware of the pain before he even fully resurfaced. His head was killing him, and he raised a hand to the source of the pain before he even opened his eyes.

When he did open his eyes, pulling his hand from his head to see if there was any evidence of injury, it was to find his fingers coated in red.

Grateful that it was at least only dimly lit, Regulus looked around the room he was in, frowning when he realised that he knew exactly where he was. He just… didn't know how he'd gotten there.

The basement of Grimmauld Place hadn't changed much since he'd last been there, even though it had been a while. He and Sirius used to sneak down there to play when they were kids, when their parents were out at various events.

None of that explained how, or why, he was there now, especially with a bleeding head and an ankle cuff holding him in place.

He tugged at the chair experimentally, to no avail. He was well and truly stuck, and, checking his pockets for his wand, unarmed.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

Regulus' confusion only intensified when he heard the voice of his mother. He blinked up at her as she approached and stood over him. He had to fight the urge to cower away from her in fear, though from the look on her face, it would probably be the safest option.

She was _seething _with anger, despite her even tone when she spoke.

"Imagine my surprise when I heard the news," she said, eyes flashing dangerously. "My youngest son, dating _Peter Pettigrew_!"

Regulus swallowed nervously but remained silent. His mother had always been dramatic, but this seemed a lot, even for her. Still, there was a reason he hadn't exactly been open about his relationship.

"_Pettigrew_! He's a _half blood_, Regulus, and while that could possibly have been forgiven, he's a _nobody_! I expect antics like this from your no-good brother, but," she said as she shook her head. "I expect better from you."

"Mother…" Regulus said, trailing off when he realised he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"I've brought parchment and a quill for you. You'll write him a letter, and tell him whatever was between you is over. I believed you smart enough to be able to manage your own affairs but clearly that was a mistake. Your father and I will begin searching for a more appropriate match for you immediately."

Regulus stared at the parchment for a long moment before he shook his head. "No."

Her glare intensified, and her eyes narrowed. "Excuse you?"

"I said no," Regulus whispered. "I won't break up with him, especially not by letter. I love him, Mother."

Her spell hit him in the chest before he even registered her drawing her wand, and he cried out in pain. A Slashing Hex hit his arm when he raised it to press against his sore chest. The spells kept coming, the onslaught heavy and rough, until Regulus was curled up in the corner, as small as he could get, his arms raised to protect his head as best he could.

When the spells finally stopped, he didn't dare move until the footsteps faded and the door to the basement slammed closed. The parchment and quill were left on the floor close by, waiting for him to give in to her whims.

Tears fell from his eyes as the pain overwhelmed him, but he took a moment to kick away the parchment and quill.

He wouldn't do it, and she couldn't force him too.

…

_Peter smiled when he saw Regulus, opening his arms to let the younger man slump against him. _

"_I missed you," Regulus murmured against Peter's chin, nuzzling his face into the side of Peter's neck. _

"_I missed you too," Peter replied, pressing a kiss to Regulus' temple. "What have you been doing?" _

"_Mother has been keeping me busy," Regulus replied, rolling his eyes. "The pureblood mating season is coming up, after all." _

_Peter snorted. "Mating season. You're not animals!" _

"_You'd be surprised," Regulus admitted. "It can be very… primal, at the summer events. Men fighting over the 'best' females, women clawing at one another for a chance with the most eligible bachelors. It's a mess." _

"_Well, at least you know you have me to come home to, right?" Peter murmured, running a hand through Peter's hair. _

"_I love you." _

…

Regulus woke abruptly, instantly wishing he was back in his dream where there was no pain, and Peter could hold him.

There was a bottle of water and a few slices of dry bread beside him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Kreacher had done that on his own, or if his mother had remembered he was down there. Regulus had lost track of time, but he knew it had at the very least been a few days. He'd been fed and watered six times so far anyway.

He drank half of the water first, and then nibbled on the slightly dry bread.

He wondered if anyone had noticed he was missing yet. He wondered if Peter had noticed. It wasn't a rare thing, for them not to get any time together for weeks at a time, but they wrote to one another frequently.

Regulus wondered where Peter's letters had gone, since no owl could deliver to him here.

A bang above him gave minimal forewarning that he was about to have company, and Regulus propped himself up as best he could in the corner. His injuries from his mother's ire were still painful and though the healing had begun, it still hurt to move.

Walburga walked down the stairs, and looked at him for a long moment, before she looked at the still empty parchment he'd kicked away.

Her eyebrow rose imperially. "I see you still haven't done as I asked. Perhaps another… lesson, might give you some motivation to do the right thing."

Regulus opened his mouth to protest, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a yelp. He didn't know what spell his mother was using, but his skin was _burning. _

He tugged at the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing until he could see the skin that burned, and sure enough, a perfectly circle burn had appeared on his arm. It looked somewhat like what Regulus would imagine a cigarette burn to look.

He rubbed the skin, almost curiously, wincing when it hurt. A new sting, and then another and another and another, spread around his body as his mother burned him over and over and over.

Each burn was worse than the last and Regulus had to fight himself so he didn't claw at his skin and make it worse.

Finally, she was done, tucking her wand away. "You can end this, Regulus. You just need to do the right thing."

…

"_We could come out," Peter suggested, his head pillowed on Regulus' lap. "We could… tell people?" _

_Regulus shook his head. "You know I can't do that. You know I can't, Pete. It's not… my mother, she's strict and… she wouldn't like this." _

"_I'm half blood though," Peter pointed out. "It's not like you're stepping out with a muggleborn, or a Muggle." _

"_You're a male, which is already somewhat problematic, and a Gryffindor, and a friend of Sirius' and… well. You're half and half on your mum's side, Pete. You have your dad's name, which isn't sacred 28, and my mother… she values that. She values power, and appearances, and blood status. She… it wouldn't go well." _

_Peter nodded and sighed, turning his face so he could press it against Regulus' stomach. "I get it," he said, his words muffled by Regulus' shirt. "I don't like it, but I get it. I love you, and if hiding is what I need to do to keep you, then I'll do it." _

"_Thank you," Regulus whispered, his relief palpable. "I… thank you." _

…

He was going stir crazy. He was still in pain, and it felt like the times between food and water were getting longer and longer each time. His stomach cramped painfully, every wince causing his external injuries to scream out in protest.

His mind was in as much turmoil as his body. Dreams of Peter were a welcome reprieve to the torment, but they weren't enough to make him strong. They weren't enough to force his eyes away from the parchment that would end this.

He spent long hours pondering how his mother had found out. Who had been the catalyst to her going to such extremes to control him? Who had sent his life up in smoke?

"Master Regulus?"

Regulus blinked, and turned his head to see Kreacher holding out a bottle of water. "Mistress will be back soon, Master Regulus. You must hurry and write your letter."

Regulus shook his head weakly. "I can't, Kreacher. I love him."

The house elf shook violently, and Regulus realised he was fighting against orders. "Mistress will kill Master Regulus, sir. Before she lets him disobey."

The elf popped away before Regulus could reply and Regulus closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he knew Kreacher wasn't wrong. She was merciless and could be cruel.

This was just the first time her vicious nature had been aimed at him.

He shifted across the floor, each movement sending a jolt of pain through his body. The parchment was crisp and dry, and the quill felt unreasonably heavy in his hand.

_Dear Peter… _

…

"What did you choose?" she asked flatly.

Regulus held out the tear stained letter. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'll do better."

* * *

**Written for; **

Assorted Appreciation; 12. Someone who values appearance/blood status.

Disney - C6. Being kept prisoner

Book Club - Camilla - Strict / Mother / Control

Showtime - 14. Writing a letter

Amber's Attic - 10. Someone merciless

Love in Motion - PeterRegulus

Em's Emporium - 7. "What did you choose?"

Liza's Lodes - 3. A dream or a nightmare

Angel's Arcade - 11. Dark Link - Seething / Regulus / Marauder Era

Bex's Basement - 12. A mother and son

Alphabetti Spaghetti - S - Slytherin

Around the World - 13. Up in smoke

Mythology - 2. Being imprisoned

Pop Figure - Scarlet Witch - 1. Being held prisoner / 3. Red

Women's History - 7. Fear

Cabin Fever 2 - Someone imprisoned

365\. 71. Cower

1000\. 915. Dramatic


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Assignment 5, **Travel and Tourism, Task 10. Attempting or having a new beginning.

**Pairing **\- DracoHarry

**Word Count** \- 1646

_Beta'd by Grandma Lizzy _

* * *

**Vibrant Pink on Pale Cheeks **

* * *

The cottage was… quaint.

Draco put his backpack and guitar case down and looked around the small living room. It was clean and bright, and just what he needed. Something new. Something different.

Something to spark his muse.

Smoky Hollow was a small town out in the middle of nowhere, and when he'd first told Blaise, his manager and friend, that he was taking a year out to just relax, Blaise had laughed until he cried. It was only when he noticed Draco wasn't laughing that he realised Draco wasn't joking.

Which… fair.

Draco was probably the last person in the world to want to move to somewhere so out of the way, but after years in the spotlight, he needed a change of pace.

He loved London, would always love London, but just for a moment, he needed peace and quiet.

His last album had sold well; his fanbase were supremely loyal, but Draco couldn't even bare to listen to the music. It was flat, generic, boring.

He needed something fresh.

So. Smoky Hollow.

Draco checked his watch and sighed when he realised he had hours until the moving van would be there with the rest of his things. He glanced at the guitar case and then shook his head, picking the keys up from where he'd put them on the table.

He had time to explore. Besides, the town was so small, it really wouldn't take long.

…

The bell above the door tingled, and Harry looked up from his arrangement to see who had entered his shop.

He didn't recognise the blond hair, but when the man turned, Harry realised who he was. Huh. That was… unexpected.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked, moving his flowers to the side a little.

The man looked up and blushed, the pink vibrant on his otherwise pale skin. "I'm new to the area. Just… looking around, I guess."

Harry nodded and smiled, turning his attention back to the flowers.

"I'm Draco," the blond said after a moment, stepping nearer to the counter.

Harry looked back up, amused. "I know. I live in the countryside, not under a rock. I'm Harry."

Draco's blush intensified. "I, uh, you're not going to ask why I'm here?"

Harry shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it. Not really my business, is it?"

Draco snorted. "I don't think I've ever met anyone that didn't think they were entitled to know everything about me."

"People around here won't," Harry said. "All people here really care about is that people are nice, and respectful. It's a nice place to live."

"So, the exact opposite of the city, then?"

"I've never lived in a city, but I'll take your word for it."

Draco smiled. "I should go, but… I'll see you around?"

"It's a small town, so I'm sure you will," Harry agreed with a small smile.

…

Draco spent his evening unpacking as he contemplated the small town. It was small, even smaller than he'd expected, but it was certainly functional. Two pubs, one at either end of a long street, a greengrocer, a butcher, a florist, a chemist.

The people seemed nice too. Especially the florist. Harry. Draco was kind of surprised to see a man around his own age arranging flowers. Back in London, he couldn't imagine any of his friends doing that kind of job.

It was refreshingly different.

Once unpacked, Draco took his guitar from its case and set himself up on the patio in the back, plucking the strings. He hadn't been there for twenty four hours yet, and already cords and words were spinning in his mind, ideas arriving faster than he could keep up with.

Smoky Hollow had been a good decision.

…

Harry removed the leather jacket and put it on the stool before he sat down. Hannah smiled at him from behind the bar and a moment later, placed his usual in front of him. Moments later, Hermione arrived and sat on the stool beside him.

"Hey you," she greeted, leaning over to kiss his cheeks. "Heard the news?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy's arrival?"

Hermione nodded. "Uh huh. Have you met him?"

"Briefly," Harry replied. "He came into the shop earlier, said he was exploring."

"What did you think?" she asked, accepting the drink Hannah put in front of her with a smile.

Harry shrugged. "He's got a pretty adorable blush."

Hermione giggled.

"Evening folks," George chimed as he and his brothers, Ron, Percy and Bill entered the bar, swarming them quickly. "How is everyone?"

They fell into conversation, and Harry settled in for an evening of chatter with his friends. He couldn't help but wonder about Draco though, and what he was spending his evening doing.

…

Three weeks into his new life in Smoky Hollow, Draco had almost an album's worth of new material. He wouldn't use it all, of course, but the music was flowing from him like it hadn't for years and his inspiration was at an all time high.

He was, though, missing human interaction. He spoke with Blaise often on the phone, but he still felt the absence of someone there in person to talk to.

Deciding to venture out to the pub, he grabbed a jacket and locked the cottage door behind him. It was only a five minute walk, which he was grateful for because the evenings were getting colder and colder as the last tendrils of summer faded away.

Entering the pub, he found it already half full. He was surprised to see so many people around his age; he'd expected there to be more people of an… advanced age. At least, that was what town pubs always seemed like on the tv.

He ordered a drink from the pretty blonde barmaid and took a seat on one of the few remaining stools. He could feel eyes on him, and he couldn't help but feel a little awkward, so he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up his twitter feed.

"You can join us, you know?"

Draco looked up to see Harry.

"We won't bite," Harry added. "Well. Unless you ask really nicely."

Draco felt his cheeks heat, but he smirked. "I prefer to be on the other side of the begging, actually."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but then nodded to his group of friends. "Come and join us. They're a rowdy bunch, but they're nice people, I promise."

Draco picked his drink up and stashed his phone back in his pocket. "Lead the way."

…

Harry saw Draco before the blond saw him. He'd been out delivering flowers, and Draco seemed to just be wandering. He had headphones in, and his head was bobbing to whatever he was listening to.

Moment's before it happened, Harry saw the little rock, and he tried to call out in warning. Draco's music must have been too loud though, and he tripped over it, falling to one knee.

Harry walked over to him, and looked down as Draco pulled his headphones off his head.

"You didn't have to literally fall at my feet, you know? Could have just asked me on a date."

Draco looked up, and sure enough, his cheeks were red with embarrassment. Harry offered a hand to help him up, and he took it without hesitation.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"Apart from my ego, I'm fine," Draco replied, rolling his eyes at himself. "You didn't have to bring me flowers though."

Harry smiled, pulling a burgundy rose from the bunch on his arm and offered it up. Draco took it, his blush intensified.

"I should get on," Harry murmured, nodding to the house at the bottom of the road. "Mrs Figg gets antsy if I'm late with her flowers."

Draco nodded and stepped around him.

Harry took a few steps and then looked over his shoulder. "I was being serious about asking me on a date, by the way."

…

Draco had a problem.

A big problem.

He played his guitar absently, picking at the strings in a random pattern. He couldn't stop himself from replaying the conversation with Harry.

He _wanted _to do as the man suggested. A date with Harry sounded perfect, but… he shouldn't. Draco was selfish, and he knew if he had him, he wouldn't ever want to give him up. That said, Smoky Hollow wasn't his long term plan.

He intended to go back to London eventually, to record a new album, maybe do another tour. Living away from that life for a while had given him a new lease for life, but he knew he wouldn't be here forever.

He didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep, and a date, the possibility of a relationship, probably wasn't the most sensible thing to do.

And yet… Draco had never been known for his wisdom.

And he _wanted. _

…

The bell tinkled, and Harry looked up to see Draco entering the shop.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

Draco smiled, leaning on the counter. "Taking your advice."

Harry blinked. "Advice?"

"Go on a date with me?"

Harry was surprised, but pleasantly so, and he smiled. "Love to."

…

_2 years later _

…

"That was fantastic," Harry said, tugging Draco into a hug as he walked off the stage. "You rocked it out there!"

Draco grinned, still high from his performance and the adulation of the crowd. "Thanks. You enjoyed the show?"

"I always enjoy watching you perform, baby," Harry murmured, grinning at the immediate flush on Draco's cheeks. Even after over two years of them being together, making Draco blush was still his favourite thing.

Draco shook his head. "Why do I put up with you?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry's jaw.

"Because you're an intelligent man who knows what's good for you."

Grinning, Draco nodded. "That must be it."

* * *

**Written for; **

Meet-Cute, Day 3 - Musician [A] arrived in Smoky Hollow, battered suitcase and precious violin in tow, to rediscover his passion for music—not to fall for the town's most eligible bachelor, [B].

Book Club - Katrina Clark - Florist / Selfish / Sensible

Em's Emporium - 1. The absence of something

Angel's Arcade - 14. Impa - Cottage / Wisdom / Playing an instrument

Around The World - 7. Leather Jacket

Mythology - 11. A new town or city

Pop Figure - Spiderman - 1. Adorable / 2. Intelligent / 3. Falling / 4. Backpack

365\. 63. Fresh

1000\. 939. Burgundy


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Assignment 5 - **Travel and Tourism, Task 11; Something considered huge (a wedding).

_Challenges listed at the bottom. _

**Word Count **\- 1884

* * *

**His Place **

* * *

He could hear everything but dared not open his eyes. His head was banging, and he had a rather enthusiastic hope that Lavender would stop prattling on and leave him to die in peace.

Of course, no such luck.

The quilt was pulled off of him, and even with his eyes shut, he could see the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"—I can't believe you're still in bed, you lazy shit! You're—"

"Stop speaking," Seamus begged, giving into the urge to bury his head under the pillow.

Lavender laughed and pulled the pillow away. "This is why I told you not to have your stag do the night before the wedding."

"I think I'm allergic to mornings," he grumbled, shielding his head with his arms. "And you're far too peppy when I'm hungover."

"If you open your eyes, you'll see I have a gift for you," she replied, the amusement still clear in her voice.

Seamus cracked open one eye to glare balefully at her, but when he saw what she was holding out, his glare fell away.

"I adore you," he muttered seriously, opening both eyes and sitting up slowly. His stomach rolled uncomfortably and he grimaced, taking the potion vial from her.

She looked beautiful, already wearing a rose pink dress with her hair in a complicated looking updo, a few curls falling around her face. Even so, the hangover potion was still the best looking thing in the room.

He downed it in one, wrinkling his nose at the taste. "That's _nasty_."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "So are you. Go and get a shower, you heathen."

"What time is it?" he asked, shuffling to the edge of the bed.

"Quarter to eleven. We're to be at the Burrow in half an hour."

Seamus groaned, but stood up, cooperating suddenly much more important. Molly would dead him if he was even a minute late.

…

George sat in the sunshine, a coffee in hand as he watched his family construct the tent that would be used for his wedding reception.

He couldn't believe he was getting married. When he'd proposed to Seamus, it had been an abstract thought, a something that would happen sometime down the road. That the day had actually arrived was somewhat overwhelming.

"You should probably start getting ready soon," Ginny commented, sitting down on the bench beside him. "Mum will go mental if she realises you haven't even showered yet."

George snorted. "Mum is in the kitchen, screeching at anyone who enters because she thinks someone is going to try and steal food. I think I'm probably safe."

"You feeling okay?" she asked then, leaning her head against his shoulder as she linked their arms together. "It's a huge day for you."

"I'm… ready," George admitted with a small smile. He turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. "This is a good thing."

"It is," she agreed. "Although I don't think Seamus truly knows what he's signing up for, marrying into such a big family."

"We've been together for three years, Gin. It's not like he doesn't already know everyone."

"Harry was already a member of the family, and do you remember the mess he was for the first few months after we married. I thought he was going to have a breakdown."

George laughed. "That was because you didn't tell him that mum was fucking with him. Poor boy was a mess, thinking he had to be here every time she said anything."

Ginny shrugged. "I thought he'd realise. Nobody could have given birth to you and _not _been a prankster, let's be honest."

Rolling his eyes, George shrugged. "Point."

"Ginny? Ginny!"

She huffed and squeezed his arm. "I better go and do damage control," she murmured, nodding to the kitchen where their mum was shouting for her. "And you need to go and have a shower. Seamus will be here soon."

George nodded, draining his coffee. He handed her the empty cup. "Take that in for me, please? No way am I getting anywhere near Mum until I'm sure she's got nothing to complain about."

…

Seamus and Lavender arrived at the Burrow with about fifteen seconds to spare. Lavender hustled him inside, responding to the many greetings that were called out. The Burrow was already filled to the brim, though the guests that weren't family wouldn't be arriving for another hour.

"Where's George?" Seamus asked, looking around for his husband to be.

"Somewhere you won't see him until it's time," Lavender replied sternly, raising her eyebrow. "Don't make me cuff you to me to make sure you won't sneak off to see him."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "I just wanna check he's okay, that's all."

"He's fine," Ginny said, entering the room. She kissed Seamus' cheek and hugged Lavender. "He's getting ready, Bill and Charlie are with him."

Seamus nodded. "Anything for me to do?"

He was feeling restless, and time seemed to be passing particularly slowly just to spite him.

"The guys are in the garden, setting up the tent. You can head out there with them."

Smiling gratefully, Seamus made his way out into the back, smiling when he saw the large tent. They'd decided on an intimate wedding, but the abundance of Weasley's meant that even with just family and close friends, it would still be a considerably large affair.

Harry spotted him first, and raised a hand in greeting, waving him over. Seamus ducked into the tent.

"What do you think?" Harry asked, gesturing to the inside.

"Looks amazing," Seamus replied honestly, looking around. Small tables had been set all over one side, and on the other, a dance floor and a small stage for the band they'd booked. "Anything I can do?"

"The lamps still need putting up," Harry said, gesturing to the small pile of lamps in the corner. "Every other stand," he added, gesturing to where they were to be placed.

Seamus nodded and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt carefully. Lavender hadn't let him put his dress robes on yet, so he was only wearing his shirt and charcoal trousers.

"How are you doing?" Arthur asked, approaching them. He was already wearing his robes, and his eyes sparkled with happiness.

"I'm good," Seamus replied. "Grateful that Lavender thought to have a hangover potion waiting for me when she got me up. Otherwise, I would still be dying a slow and painful death."

Harry and Arthur both chuckled.

"You were… _slightly _inebriated last night," Harry admitted.

"Was it a good night?" Seamus asked, a cheeky smile on his lips. "Because I don't remember most of it."

Harry laughed again. "It was. Although, you'd think that by now, we'd know not to let you use your wand when you're drunk. Hannah wasn't impressed when you exploded half of her glasses."

Seamus groaned. "Did I try and turn water to whisky again?"

Harry nodded, eyes twinkling. "Of course you did."

"Of course I did. I blame you and Dean. You should have stopped me. _What were you thinking_?"

"Oh sure, blame me," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I'd blame Dean, but he was as drunk as you, if not worse."

Seamus snorted. "Explains why it was Lavender that woke me up this morning and not him. She told me he was doing last minute best man things."

Harry nodded. "Making sure he isn't going to vomit when he hands the ring over is important," he said solemnly.

Seamus shook his head. "Why are you all like this?"

Shrugging, Harry replied, "You're the one that decided to be friends with us, so really, all of this is your fault."

"Of course it is."

…

George sat on his bed, fiddling with the cuffs of his robes.

"It's time, George," Percy said, entering the room. "Are you ready?"

George looked up and nodded. "I'm so ready, Perce."

"Then let's go and get you married."

George stood, checking his reflection one last time in the mirror. Bill had tamed his hair, and Charlie had made sure his robes were good, but George wanted to make sure he looked perfect for Seamus.

"You've got the ring, right?" he asked, looking at Percy.

"Right here," Percy confirmed, patting his top pocket.

George nodded. "Then let's do this."

They walked down the stairs together, and were almost at the back door when Percy cleared his throat. "I, uh… thanks."

George blinked and looked at his brother. "For what?"

"For asking me to be best man. I… This is a huge step in your life and… you're letting me be right there beside you for it."

"You were there for me when I needed you," George said softly. "When Fred… you were the one that stayed, even when I tried to push you away. You were the one that took all the abuse I could throw at you, and still held me when I cried. It wasn't going to be anyone _but _you, Perce."

Percy cleared his throat awkwardly, a light blush colouring his cheeks. "Well. Like I said, thanks."

…

Seamus felt like he was going to be sick. He stood to the left of the tent with Dean, waiting for the signal to enter. They'd contemplated one of them walking down the aisle, but the idea of entering at the same time, as equals, had been attractive to both of them.

He knew George stood on the right with Percy.

They were so close, and honestly, Seamus just wanted to see his man.

"I'm happy for you," Dean said lowly, a small smile on his lips. "I wasn't sure we'd ever make it to being each other's best man, but I'm glad we did."

Seamus looked at his best friend. They'd both been through so much, together and apart, but through all of that, they always made their way back to each other. Dean had been his first real friend, back when he was eleven and unsure on the train to Hogwarts.

"If you weren't here to be my best man, I wouldn't have had one," Seamus replied softly. "You've always been my best man, Dean. From the moment we met."

Dean nodded, clearing his throat gruffly. "Back at ya."

"Why do weddings always turn people into saps?" Seamus groaned, fighting back the sudden tears that threatened.

"New beginnings, endings, some crap?" Dean offered, smirking.

"You've got such a way with words," Seamus replied, rolling his eyes. "If your best man speech is anything like that, there won't be a dry eye in the place."

"There won't be," Dean assured him, a wicked smile on his face. "Everyone is going to be in tears of laughter while I embarrass the shit out of you."

Seamus shook his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

…

Ribbon flowed from the officials wand, wrapping around their joined hands. George met Seamus' eyes and smiled.

Seamus returned the smile, and his hand tightened around George's slightly.

No matter what they'd been through in their lives, Seamus knew that right here, with this man, he'd found his place in the world.

"You may now kiss the groom," the officiant announced, and George tugged Seamus forwards, their lips pressing together in a chaste kiss.

"I love you," Seamus murmured against his lips.

"I love you too."

* * *

**Also written for;**

Opening Line Competition - He could hear everything but dare not open his eyes.

Dialogue For Days Challenge - "I think I'm allergic to mornings."

All Sorts of Love - Fluff

Assorted Appreciation - 4. A Large Family

Disney - S1. Someone finding their place in life

Angel's Arcade - 12. Twinrova - Cooperating / Linking arms / Rose pink

Bex's Basement - 4. Jeffrey Dahmer - George Weasley

Around The World - 12. Lamp

Mythology - 21. George Weasley

Pop Figure - Karolina Dean - Lavender Brown / Sunlight / "I adore you." / Peppy

Woman's History - 10. The Burrow

365\. 68. Urge

1000\. 940. Charcoal


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Written for Hogwarts Assignment 5, Travel and Tourism Task 6 - A dark/light relationship ending well. _

**Pairing **\- LuciusHarry

**Word Count** \- 1727

_Written for Jen _

* * *

**Two Dozen Roses **

* * *

Rosmerta handed him the tray of drinks with a smile, and he thanked her quietly before turning for his table. His friends were a rowdy bunch, and he certainly wouldn't have missed them, even if he didn't know where they were sitting.

He carefully set the tray down and picked up his own drink before he returned to his seat in the corner, slightly removed from the brashness of his friends. He hadn't even wanted to join them, but it was Hermione's birthday, and he couldn't bring himself to let her down.

His friends were everything to him, and while he knew she wouldn't try and guilt him, he didn't want to see the brief disappointment that would spark in her eyes before she managed to hide it from him.

"The Nargles are particularly excited to be near you, this eve, Harry," Luna said, as she sat down beside him.

Harry blinked. She was wearing a red dress, with an orange sash and a yellow headband. It was certainly a cheerful ensemble, though he half wanted a pair of sunglasses to shield his eyes from so much colour.

"That's… not good?" he asked, sipping at his drink.

She smiled serenely. "I have a feeling they'll be gone by the end of the night."

"Huh. Okay. Thanks Luna."

She nodded, and sipped from the straw poking out of her cocktail glass. Her drink was as colourful as she was, and it brought a small smile to his lips. Luna was quirky in the best possible way.

She stayed beside him, quiet but seemingly content in it. Harry listened to the banter flying back and forth through the group, and despite his rather dismal mood, he did chuckle a few times at the more outrageous statements thrown.

"Do you want another?" he asked Luna, gesturing to her almost empty glass.

"No, thank you, Harry. I'm going to leave soon."

He nodded and stood, squeezing her shoulder as he passed her to move to the bar. He was glad Hermione had decided on the Three Broomsticks as the setting for the get-together. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the bar, and it was one of the few places he could let himself relax. He thought it was, perhaps, the proximity to his old school that left him feeling warm and safe.

"Another, please, Rosmerta," he said, setting his empty glass on the bar. She nodded, and moved away to get him his drink. Harry perched himself on an empty barstool, wondering absently how long he could stay there before his friends noticed his absence.

"I'll get that, Rosmerta," a smooth voice said on Harry's left, as she returned with the drink. "And I'll have the same."

Harry wrapped his hand around the glass, his heart thumping in his chest. He knew that voice. He'd _craved _that voice. He'd been left _broken _by that voice.

"I can buy my own drink, thank you," he murmured stiffly.

"Harry—"

Harry turned to look at Lucius and quirked an eyebrow. "Lucius."

"I know you expect I'm here for—"

"I don't expect anything," Harry interrupted, voice low. "Can't be disappointed that way."

Lucius tilted his head thoughtfully. "An interesting philosophy. Entirely unlike you, though."

"You know nothing about me," Harry retorted.

Rosmerta returned with Lucius' drink, and he paid for both before Harry could protest again.

"I know I hurt you," Lucius said slowly. "And I know that you feel like I betrayed you. I know that you love pancakes for breakfast, and don't like to try and string a sentence together before you've had your morning coffee. I know that you feel like I didn't appreciate you."

Harry looked away. He couldn't deny any of Lucius' words, but he hated that the blond man had any of that knowledge in the first place.

"If I'm so transparent, why don't you tell me what I'm thinking now?" he offered finally, eyes flashing with repressed anger and challenge.

"Oh, I have no idea what you're thinking," Lucius admitted. "Though I wouldn't imagine it's in any way charitable towards me."

"You're a seer," Harry sneered. "A new career path for you, perhaps."

"Harry."

"Why are you here, Lucius?" Harry asked, the fight leaving him. His shoulders slumped, and he wanted nothing more than to just leave the pub, forget that the night had ever happened.

"I was looking for you. I heard about Miss Granger's party and thought, perhaps, it would be my best chance to see you."

"Why would you be looking for me? You left with no uncertainty between us. You made it clear that it was over and done with. There's no reason for you to be seeking me out now."

"Are you really going to make me admit that I made a mistake, Harry?" Lucius asked, voice low and sultry. "Do you need the words? Do you need to hear me say that I should never have left you, that I should have begged you to stay with me forever instead of callously discarding you the way I did?"

Harry turned to look at Lucius and arched an eyebrow. "Yes."

Lucius chuckled darkly. "I should have realised you would not make this easy, shouldn't I?"

"Probably," Harry agreed. "Because I'm not stupid, Lucius. You want me in your bed again, sure, I believe that. Nobody can deny that the sex between us was fantastic. But… you're incapable of giving me what I need, and I'm grown enough to know that I deserve more than what you're willing to give me."

"How do you know what I'm willing to give if you haven't even asked?" Lucius asked, his grey eyes alight with challenge.

Harry shook his head and stood from the barstool. "You made it abundantly clear during our last… encounter. I won't be a plaything for you, Lucius. Not anymore."

He left the blond man at the bar and returned to his friends to say his goodbyes. Hermione glanced at the bar and then back to Harry with a little too much understanding, and he hugged her tightly.

"You know where I am if you need anything," she whispered in his ear before he released her.

She was the only one that knew of his affair with Lucius, the only one he'd trusted enough to vent too. Hermione was a pro at not judging Harry's bad ideas too much, it was one of her many talents.

"Thanks," he replied quietly, squeezing her hand.

He ignored the ribbing from his friends about his early exit, and left the bar. The cool night air was refreshing on his face, and he looked up at the night sky for a long moment. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and Apparated away from Hogsmeade, back to the small flat in London that he called home.

…

The flowers arrived the very next day. Two dozen long stemmed red roses, delivered by two owls, and arranged in a satin box. They were beautiful, but Harry was fully aware of the sender, and he sighed as he put the box on the table and left his flat.

A bottle of his favourite whisky followed, a deep red ribbon wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

Then a bracelet, silver and inlaid with emeralds.

The gifts came every three days like clockwork, and every time, Harry pushed them aside. He didn't need gifts, didn't _want _them. He wanted…

He wanted honesty and integrity. He wanted respect and loyalty. He wanted to be loved, the way he saw other people be loved by their significant others.

Trinkets, flowers, they didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

…

"You need to stop," Harry said firmly.

Lucius stared at him for a long moment and then sighed. "You don't like the gifts?"

"It was never about gifts, Lucius," he muttered, shaking his head. "It… I want something that you can't give me. That's fine, it really is. But… you're messing with my head and it needs to _stop. _I can't be expected to move on when every few days, your presence is everywhere in my flat."

"I don't want you to move on," Lucius retorted. "I want my presence around you always. I thought the gifts would explain that."

Harry shook his head and sighed.

"Harry, I sent two dozen long stemmed roses. You know what they mean, correct?"

"Red roses mean love," Harry replied flatly. "But you don't love me."

Lucius rubbed a hand down his face. "Two dozen red roses mean 'I belong to you'. Of course, they also mean love, but two dozen is a… it's a message of intent. I know what I said when I left, Harry, but I was wrong. I think I knew it then, but I fought it with everything in me, because… I didn't want to love you."

Harry stared. "What—"

"You were supposed to be a… conquest. The boy who lived, the man who won, you would have been my crowning glory. And yet… nobody, not even Narcissa whom I spent many years with, has ever buried themselves under my skin quite so effortlessly as you did. You made me _want _you, Harry. You made me _crave _you. I'm done fighting that. I love you, Harry."

The passionate speech was enough to render Harry speechless, and he stumbled back a step to lean against the wall. He hadn't expected any of that when he'd ambushed Lucius at the Ministry, and now he was regretting his venue of choice.

"Harry… give me a chance to show you that I can be everything you need," Lucius murmured, stepping forward. He took Harry's hand in his own and caressed the palm with his thumb.

"I just… I just want someone who loves me," Harry whispered, green eyes bright with unshed tears. "I just want someone who wants me, for me, not the boy who lived."

Lucius' lips tilted up. "I had sex with the man who won. I fell in love with Harry."

…

Lucius walked Harry to the door of his flat and pressed a light kiss against his lips.

"Thank you for allowing me to take you to dinner," he murmured, before he stepped back.

Harry smiled and nodded, catching Lucius hand in his own. He squeezed it lightly. "Next date is my turn," he murmured.

"I look forward to it."

* * *

**Also written for; **

Assorted Appreciation - 14. Someone who values love above all else.

Disney - S3. Philosophy

Book Club - Louisa Clark - The Three Broomsticks / Cheerful / Red Dress

Alphabetti Spaghetti - N - Nargles

Mythology - 4. The start of something new

Women's History - 6. Someone who feels unappreciated

365 - 52. Transparent

1000 - 916. Passionate


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Hogwarts Assignment 7, Transfiguration, Task 3** \- Something happening at sunrise or sunset.

**Word Count** \- 752

_Beta'd by Grandma Lizzy _

_Warning - Mentions of the death of a child, and also murder of adults because Serial Killer!au. _

* * *

**As The Sun Set **

* * *

She buried him at sunset.

The casket was small, small enough that she could have carried it in her arms, if she could only bring herself to. Instead, she levitated it carefully, setting it ever so gently into the hole the house elves had prepared at her request.

Her son, her only child.

His life, snuffed out because her husband didn't have the courage to defy the one he called master.

"I'll avenge you, little one," she whispered into the slowly darkening sky. "They'll pay for what they've done to you."

A single rose lay atop the soil that covered her son.

…

She used poison as her weapon.

She'd always had skill for potions, her disciplined nature in harmony with strict brewing procedures necessary for the perfect result.

With the house elves on her side, and her husband's love of showing off their wealth and status, it was almost too easy.

Wine, at sunset. It seemed apt, since that was when she had buried her son because of these monsters.

A slow acting poison, and soon, the newspapers were filled with horror at the wave of crime sweeping through the wizarding world.

Murder, they proclaimed, of the purest of purebloods. It was speculated that a halfblood, or perhaps even a mudblood, was responsible. They had the most motive, after all.

Nobody stopped to consider the grieving mother, because despite her turmoil, Narcissa was still one of them. It couldn't be her.

…

"Perhaps it is time for us to take a break, my dear," Lucius said one night as the two readied themselves for bed. "The south of France is beautiful this time of year."

Narcissa pulled on a carnation pink nightdress, and looked at Lucius through the mirror she sat down in front of.

"If that is what you want," she agreed quietly.

She knew he wouldn't find it suspicious. Narcissa had been a very tolerant wife. While she didn't particularly share Lucius' view on muggleborns, she'd never fought him on it either. She simply didn't care enough about them to want to fight to wipe them out.

"It will be good for us," Lucius continued as he pulled back the scarlet silk sheets and climbed in between them.

Narcissa didn't reply. She took the time to brush out her hair as she did every night, the graceful slide of the brush soothing to her.

When she did eventually join Lucius in bed, he was sleeping soundly. She wondered if he worried about the deaths occurring. If he understood that he was in danger of being next. She thought him too arrogant to actually believe it, but his self preservation had always been heightened.

With a quiet _nox, _Narcissa plunged the room into darkness, and smiled to herself.

Little did Lucius know that he was taking the danger with him.

…

Lucius arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips pressed to her shoulder. "Let the sun kiss your skin, darling," he murmured in her ear.

Narcissa wanted to cringe away from him, but she didn't. She held herself loose in his arms and allowed his attention. She'd saved him for last for a reason after all.

In her eyes, he was the worst offender.

She turned in his arms and let her left hand rest against his shoulder, her wedding ring glinting in the sun.

"I hate you," she whispered.

She saw the moment the words registered in his eyes as she plunged the knife in her right hand into his stomach.

He doubled over, trying to get away from her, but she wouldn't allow it. Not now, not after everything. She flicked her wand and cast a silent _furula, _the ropes binding around his wrists and ankles, forcing him to topple to the floor.

"It's your fault," she hissed at him, standing over him. "You took my _son _from me, and for what? Your master is gone, killed by a babe the same age as my Draco. Are you proud of yourself, Lucius?"

She didn't give him chance to answer. Her knife pierced his skin over and over and over again until she tired.

His eyes were dull, the life long gone from him, and she stood, tall and proud and satisfied. She'd finished what she set out to do. She'd avenged her son's life, short as it was.

She could rest now.

The sun set over the balcony, and Narcissa watched until the sky grew dark, Lucius' body cooling on the ground behind her.

She could rest.

* * *

**Also Written For; **

Auction - Serial Killer!au

Disney - S2. 3 different spells

Showtime - 20. Share

Arcade - 15. Vega - Rose / Scarlet / Arrogant

Basement - Rhodey - Disciplined

Days of the Year - 87. Losing something

Spring - 21. "Let the sun kiss your skin, darling."

Colour - Carnation Pink

Flowers - 2. Daffodil - Mirror

Amanda - Fandom, 4. Buffy - A strong female character

Hufflepuff - 6. Tolerating

Easter Fair, Face Pairing - Symbol; 4. Planet - Ring / Animal; 2. Cat - Graceful

365\. 62. Master

1000\. 906. Malfoys


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

Triad - GeorgeSeamusDean

_Beta'd by Lo _

**Word Count** \- 1348

* * *

**Enough **

* * *

"Why is it so bright?" Seamus groaned, burying his face in his pillow to protect his eyes. "Are you trying to kill me with sunshine?"

"Yeah, you caught me," George replied. Seamus could _hear _his eyes rolling.

"Why are you not here, protecting me from the sunshine?" Seamus complained, opening one eye and shifting slightly so he could look at his soulmate.

"I told you last night that I had an issue to deal with at the shop early," George said, pulling on a tomato red hoodie.

Seamus had no idea what inspired the man's fashion choices, and he'd long since given up asking but… really. With that hair? Really?

"Oh," he said, vaguely remembering George telling him about it. Why George thought Seamus was listening, when he knew exactly how Seamus got when George's hands were running through his hair, Seamus had no idea. "The… mutation with the Pygmy Puffs. Right."

"Uh huh." George leant over the bed to press a kiss to Seamus' cheek. "You should go back to sleep, babe, you don't have to be at work until noon today."

Seamus nodded. "Good plans."

He was already fast asleep when George left the room.

…

Seamus was almost done with his shift at the hospital when a note came to him from reception, requesting his presence.

"You called?" he said, leaning against the large desk. Lavender smiled up at him and then glanced at the pink post it note. Seamus watched the smile leave her face and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"George called," she said, handing him the post it. "Dean's having a rough day."

Seamus sighed. "I, right."

He closed his eyes and then stuffed the post it into his robe pocket. He was almost done, he didn't need to go home early, he—

"You can go. You've only got half an hour left and we've enough staff," Lavender said softly.

Seamus opened his eyes, and he was sure she could feel the gratitude coming off him in waves. "Thank you," he murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded. "I'll be here."

…

He let himself in quietly. Often times, by the time he got home, George had managed to settle Dean down enough for him to fall asleep on the sofa, and Seamus didn't want to wake him if that was the case.

Instead, he found them sitting side by side, tear marks obvious on both of their faces. Seamus leant down slightly to kiss George, and then gently rubbed a hand through Dean's hair.

"You doing alright?" he asked.

They both nodded, and Seamus squeezed George's hand when George gripped it in his own. Seamus shook George off gently and left the room. Now that he knew they were both okay, he needed a shower and comfortable clothes and probably food.

As he showered, he thought about the two men in the living room. George was his soulmate, and the two of them had been them since Seamus was fifteen. Fred had been Dean's soulmate, and the fact that their soulmates were twins had brought the two of them no end of amusement.

Who else would put up with the bond between them except for people who had their own bond that was just as, if not more, inseparable.

Except death had done the unexpected, and George was left without his twin, and Dean was left without his soulmate.

Seamus hadn't known how to help either of them, and watching them struggle, watching them try and fight against the waves of pure grief that threatened to drag and hold them under had been the hardest thing Seamus had ever had to do.

In the end, the two of them had learnt to help each other. Seamus encouraged it as much as he could, because if they could make each other feel even a little less pain, then it was worth everything.

Three years on, and the bad days were lessening. At least half of the times they saw Dean, it was a happy visit, and as time passed, the odds were getting smaller and smaller.

…

Clean and dressed, he was about to leave the bedroom when Pluto, their tabby cat, jumped up on the bed, meowing pitifully. Seamus rolled his eyes but picked the cat up, cuddling him to his chest as he walked back to the living room.

George and Dean both looked better already, the tear tracks gone and small smiles on their faces. Seamus plonked himself down on George's knee, drawing an "oomph" from the redhead for his troubles.

Pluto meowed louder, and Seamus snorted.

"Did you even feed the poor thing when you got in?"

"Of course I did," George muttered, tugging a strand of Seamus' hair. "Little shit just knows that you're a soft touch."

Seamus could see the jealousy in Dean's eyes and he felt a pang of sympathy for his best friend. He couldn't imagine how painful it must be to have your soulmate ripped from you, especially so young.

Pluto batted at his jaw with a paw, and meowed but George gently picked him up and held him in the air with one hand.

"Meow means 'woof' in cat, and 'woof' means nothing in human, bugger off."

Seamus squinted. "What?"

"What?" George asked.

"Meow means 'woof' in cat? What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"It's the only logical explanation," George replied loftily.

"Logic isn't something I'm ever going to argue about with you. Besides, it's your turn to cook, so, chop chop. I'm hungry."

"You only keep me around because I feed you, don't you?"

"And you give the best hugs," Seamus agreed. "Other than that, you're useless."

George huffed. "I don't know why I put up with this abuse."

"Glutton for punishment."

"At least we agree on something. Get up then, if you want feeding. Can't cook if you're keeping me hostage on the sofa, can I?"

"You should learn too. Then I can have food and cuddles all at once."

"Uh huh."

…

Seamus came home to find George with one hand wrapped around Dean's back, and their lips pressed together. They were standing in the kitchen, George cooking dinner for them all. It was a regular scene, except for the kissing.

Dean pulled away, guilt evident on his face as he met Seamus' eyes.

Seamus smiled softly. "It's alright. I love you."

"Are you sure about this?" Dean asked, as George tugged Seamus over and pulled him down onto his lap. "You don't need too—"

"George has always felt a connection to you because of Fred," Seamus said, a small smile on his face. "And I've loved you since we were eleven."

George and he had spoken about this situation at length, and while Seamus was surprised at the timing, he'd always known it was a possibility that George would jump the gun. He was an impatient shit at the best of times.

Of course, if he'd just waited a little while longer, the guilt on Dean's face wouldn't be there. Seamus shook his head and elbowed George in his side to make him speak before Dean spooked entirely and run out on them.

"It's not pity," George said, head tilted slightly as he regarded Dean. "It's not because we feel sorry for you, and you shouldn't feel any obligation here. If you don't want to—"

"No, I do," Dean said hastily, cutting George off. "I just… don't want to… damage anything between the two of you, or," he looked at Seamus, "between us."

"The only way it can damage us is if we let it," Seamus said. "Right or wrong, we want this. Both of us, all three of us, want this. It's got to be worth the risk."

Dean hesitantly leant over and pressed his lips to Seamus'. It felt odd for a moment, having someone other than George kiss him, but as Dean's soft hand cupped Seamus' cheek, warming the skin there, Seamus sank into the kiss.

It was different, but it was as compelling as a kiss from George had ever been.

That was enough.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - GeorgeSeamusDean

Disney - C3. Write about jealousy

Showtime - 18. "Right or wrong."

Attic - 7. "Meow means 'woof' in cat."

Emporium - Trio Era

Lowdown - C6. Seamus Finnegan

Basement - Vision - "It's alright. I love you."

Days of the Year - 14. April Fools Day

Spring - 17. Sunshine

Colour - 5. Tomato red

Elemental - 9. Warming

Easter fair - Face Painting - Superhero: 9. Hulk - "Are you sure about this?" / Symbol: 5. Cloud - Pillow

365\. 58. Mutation

1000\. 217. DeanSeamusGeorge


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

_Written for Grandma Lizzy — Love youuu. _

**Pairing **\- PercyOliver

**Word Count **\- 1065

**Also written for Hogwarts Assignment 7**; Arithmancy, Task 1 - Write about two people communicating.

* * *

**Moot Point **

* * *

"That's not good," he murmured to himself, eyeing the man sitting at the end of the bar. He was slumped forwards, his red hair a tangled mess on his head, his glasses askew on his face.

Oliver pulled his cloak tighter around himself, suddenly cold. He hated seeing Percy this way. The man he'd known, the man he'd long ago fallen in love with, was nothing like this.

The man Oliver knew was conscious about the way he presented himself. The man Oliver knew cared about what people thought, and more importantly, thought more of himself than… whatever this was.

This was insanity.

…

"_You look great," Oliver said, grinning so widely he thought his face would probably hurt in the morning. "Are you ready?" _

_Percy, blush contrasting prettily against the cornflower shirt collar, nodded. _

…

"What are you doing here?"

The words were slurred, barely understandable, but Oliver got the gist. "I'm here to take you home, Perce."

He laid a hand on Percy's shoulder, and Percy tried to shake him off. He was so unsteady that he almost fell off the stool.

"I don't have a home."

It hurt to hear those words, but Oliver tried his best to push the hurt aside. This wasn't about him.

"You can't hide forever," he murmured softly.

"I can try."

…

"_You're always busy these days," Oliver moaned, sprawling across the bed. "Stay here with me and cuddle." _

"_I can't. Mr Crouch—" _

"_Will manage without you for one day. Perce, I miss you." _

_Percy stared at Oliver for a long moment. "I… suppose I can go in a few hours late." _

…

Oliver put Percy carefully on the sofa. They had so many good memories on that sofa, he hated to taint it with this, but he'd wanted to bring Percy home.

When Percy slumped to the side, his breathing even as he passed out, Oliver rubbed his temple. He was worried, worried enough that he knew he wouldn't sleep that night. He changed quickly and returned to the living room, taking up vigil from the overstuffed armchair.

He hoped, this time, when Percy woke up, he'd stay.

…

"_Why are you being like this? Your mum told me what happened. Percy, this isn't you!" _

"_How do you know what's me and what isn't?" Percy demanded. "Have you ever thought that maybe I just want more from life than scraping by, check by check, never being able to do anything?" _

"_What is wrong with you?" Oliver asked, tired all of a sudden. "Whatever is going on… just stop it, Perce. Just… stop." _

_Percy shook his head and moment's later the door slammed and he was gone._

…

"Why do you keep doing this?" Percy groaned, rubbing his face.

Day was just breaking. Oliver had been watching the sky lighten through the window. He turned to look at Percy.

"Because I know who you are, and this is not you."

"I'm broken, Oli. There's nothing left to fix."

Oliver smiled. "I disagree. Until… well. I'll never give up on you, so it's a moot point, isn't it."

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I love you."

…

"_He needs help," George said quietly. "And I can't help him. He doesn't want to see me. I look too much like… well. He doesn't want to see me." _

"_You think he wants to see me?" Oliver asked doubtfully. "The last time I saw Percy, he was walking out of our front door. He… he chose the Ministry." _

"_He woke up," George insisted. "He did. Yeah, he messed up but… Oliver, if you love him… please, you've got to save him from himself." _

_Oliver rubbed a hand over his face. "Where is he?" _

…

"I'm… not lovable," Percy whispered. "You need to just… forget me."

"Would you forget me?"

"What?"

"If I was drowning my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle, throwing a private pity party every night… would you forget me, or would you fight for the man you love?"

"That's—"

"What would you do, Perce?"

"I'd fight," Percy admitted, voice low and scratchy. "But you… you didn't get your brother killed, Oli. You didn't stand by and watch your brother die without lifting a wand to help."

"Neither did you," Oliver said firmly. "Do you know how I found you that first time?"

Percy shook his head. "George. He found you, and sent me, because you made it clear you didn't want to be around your family. He asked me to help you, for you and for them. He asked me to help you believe that what happened wasn't your fault."

"Stop," Percy begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Oliver, stop."

"I can't stop," Oliver murmured gently. He stood, and stepped forwards, crouching down between Percy's legs. He took Percy's hands in his own, and lifted them to press a kiss to Percy's palm. "I won't stop, Perce. Not until you believe me. Not until you come home and stay."

Percy tugged his hands away and scooted back. Oliver moved out of the way for him to get up and Percy ran.

He ran, like Oliver had known he would.

…

_The bar was gross. The floors were sticky, and the patrons probably more so. Oliver cringed as he walked past one man sitting in what smelled like his own filth. _

"_Percy, what the hell are you doing?" _

"_Drinking. Forgetting. Fuck off." _

_Oliver didn't realise as he tugged Percy from the bar that it was the first time of many._

…

Oliver opened the door, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. It was early, too early for visitors. He blinked when he saw Percy standing in front of the door.

He still didn't look great, but Oliver could see he'd tried. At least his glasses were sitting right on his face this time.

"I…" Percy trailed off. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no more words were spoken.

Oliver sighed and stood back, waving his arm for Percy to go inside.

"It's too early to talk," Oliver grumbled as he closed the door. "I'm going back to bed."

Percy nodded, rubbing a hand over his neck awkwardly. He stayed in the middle of the living room floor, looking entirely lost. Oliver stopped when he reached the hallway door, and looked over his shoulder.

"You still remember how to cuddle, don't you?"

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - "That's not good."

Showtime - 10. Worry

Basement - Stephen Strange - Cloak

Easter Fair - Face Painting - Superhero; 4. Green Lantern: "You can't hide forever." / Symbol; 1. Sun: Glasses

365\. 179. Insanity

1000\. 936. Cornflower


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Assignment 7, Performing Arts 2** \- Write about making something more presentable.

**Word Count **\- 451

* * *

**The Greatest Day **

* * *

He spent hours preparing himself. He preened his feathers until the all sat perfectly in their rows. Flaring his wings out, he checked them carefully, ensuring they were presentable. This was one of the most important days of his life.

His first mating day.

Seamus couldn't believe it was already here. He'd been waiting for this for months, and now that it was here he was a ball of nervous energy.

He knew that most people didn't find their mate on the first try, but he couldn't help but hope that he would be one of the lucky few that did. He wanted, so much, to find that one person made for him.

To have that one person who would just… _get _him.

His wings gave a flutter at the thought. It was so _romantic. _

Seamus checked himself in the mirror one final time. He was as ready as he could ever be.

…

"Wow, this place is crowded!"

Seamus couldn't help but agree with the person who'd just brushed past him. The large field was filled with people of all shapes, sizes and ages. Wings in every colour, from rose quartz to mustard yellow, filled Seamus' view. There were so many patterns too, swirls and spirals, even one with a snowflake pattern!

Seamus didn't know where to look for the best.

He wandered through the crowd. He felt energised, the air was invigorating. People were talking amongst themselves, others presenting to each other, their wings flaring high and wide. Seamus watched, wide eyed and wondrous.

He was jolted suddenly, and a young man, about Seamus' age, turned around, eyes apologetic.

"Sorry, I just—"

He cut off as their eyes met and Seamus felt his wings flaring of their own accord. The man's wings did the same, and the looser feathers at the ends of their wings intermingled, sending jolts of electricity down Seamus' wings into his spine.

"I'm Dean."

"Seamus."

They stood in silence, staring at each other, amazed.

"This is the greatest day of my life," Seamus whispered.

Dean's lips tilted up in a warm smile. He leant forward, and it was the most natural thing in the world for Seamus to reflect his movement until their lips met in a soft kiss.

"I can't believe I found you so easily," Seamus murmured when they pulled back, still close enough that their wings touched.

Dean snorted. "I think you'll find I found you!"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Sure, if you count almost knocking me over 'finding', then you found me."

They grinned at each other.

"Shall we go and get a drink?" Dean offered, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Seamus'.

"Sounds great," Seamus agreed.

And it was.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - No Slytherins

Showtime - 3. Kiss

Love in Motion - SeamusDean

Emporium - 4. SeamusDean

Basement - Sam Wilson - Wing!fic

Film Festival - 18. "Wow, this place is crowded."

Spring - 10. Energised.

Colour - 6. Rose Quartz

Hufflepuff, other - 1. Mustard yellow

Star Chart - 1. Conjunction of Mercury and Neptune - First Kiss

Easter Fair - Face Painting - Superhero, 8. Thor: "This is the greatest day of my life." / Animal, 1. Butterfly: Flutter

365\. 116. Romantic

1000\. 91. Seamus Finnegan


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 3006

* * *

**Freedom of Flying **

* * *

He heard talk of raven wings, owl wings and peacock feathers. He heard talk of pretty colours, patterns and swirls and all things beautiful.

Never once, did he hear about dragon scales. Never once did he hear about wings functioning like _wings. _

Charlie had known since he was young that he was different. While his parents talked about their swan wings, and his brothers spoke of ravens and peahens and canaries.

Charlie never brought up his own wings and nobody asked. Their mother had raised them right, and it was the height of impolite to ask someone about their wings.

The only people that could see soul wings were the person they belonged to, and their mate.

Except… there was the whole functional thing and that added a whole other level to the things Charlie couldn't speak about because that was _weird._

…

Being able to fly was more than Charlie could have ever expected. Even from a young age, his wings had flexed on his back, testing and retesting until they could lift him from the ground. Charlie tried to ensure he didn't so it too often—he had a feeling it would give his mum a heart attack—but when he was sure he was alone, he couldn't help but whoop with joy as he soared through the air.

When he went to Hogwarts, Charlie couldn't take the risk of flying with his wings. With so many people in the castle, he was never entirely alone, and he couldn't take the chance that someone might see him.

So he became a seeker, because flying on a broom wasn't as fun as flying freely, but it was better than never flying at all. He felt so natural in the air, much more so than he was on the ground, where he could often trip over thin air if he wasn't paying attention.

Bill thought his clumsiness was hilarious, and never failed to tease him about it. Charlie took it in the good natured way it was meant, but he wished he could show his brother that he _could _be graceful, even if only when not on his own two feet.

…

After spending a lot of time doing research, Charlie finally concluded that his wings were the most similar to those of a Chinese Fireball. They were a brilliant red and there were gold spikes along the trim, almost like a deadly decorative necklace around the hem.

It was of no surprise that during his research, Charlie fell in love with the beasts his wings belonged to. Often times, wizards and witches had reported having an affinity with the animals their souls echoed, and in this at least, Charlie found himself being no different.

Dragons were _awesome. _

…

As he turned seventeen, Charlie found himself taking in his surroundings a little more often. Coming of age meant he was now 'discoverable' to his mate. If his mate were of age, Charlie would be able to see their wings.

The thought of having someone who could see his wings, who Charlie could confide in about them, was terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.

He didn't find anyone though. Not at Hogwarts, not in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. The disappointment he felt warred with the relief, and left Charlie with a churning ball of emotion that he didn't know what to do with.

Instead of ruminating on it, he pushed it aside and focused on his last year of schooling. Professor McGonagall though he had a good chance at getting into the Romanian training programme on the dragon reserve, but he had to make sure he had the marks he needed. At the moment, that was the important thing.

…

Romania was more than Charlie could have imagined. The training was hard, but it was everything Charlie wanted. He put in long hours learning the intricacies of how to treat the different breeds, and he spent many nights soaking in warm water with muscle relaxants after long days spent in the pens, tense with adrenaline as he was taught how to not get barbecued.

The day he got given his staff badge was the best of his life so far. Of the five people Charlie had gone into training with, only him and one other passed muster.

Amelie had fast become Charlie's best friend on the reserve, and they'd quickly built a bond over their shared love of dragons and complaining over the aches and pains that came with the job.

There was something special about her, though Charlie couldn't put his finger on what. Though he didn't feel attracted to her, he was almost disappointed that he couldn't see her wings and her his.

She'd have made a good soulmate.

…

"So… I think I either took a hallucinogenic without knowing, or you can fly and didn't tell me."

Charlie stared at her, almost instinctive panic welling up inside him.

"Charlie?" Amelie said, eyebrow raising. "You look pale, are you okay?"

"Where did you see me?" he asked, voice little more than a whisper.

"Two days ago, in the Common paddock."

Charlie closed his eyes. He'd thought he was alone—safe to let loose, and fly with the least dangerous dragons on the reserve.

Amelia frowned when Charlie didn't say anything. "Is this… was is a secret? Because you know I won't tell anyone, right? If you don't want me to, I mean."

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at her. He knew she'd hold his secret and he swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. That she accepted him so unquestioningly was… unprecedented. His family aside, folk weren't so accepting in Wizarding Britain.

"My wings are functional," he admitted eventually. "I have the wings of a Chinese Firebolt."

Amelia blinked. Then blinked again. "Well," she said eventually. "That explains why the dragons like you a little more than the rest of us, huh? Lucky bastard."

Charlie snorted. Of course jealousy was her reaction. She was as mad about dragons as he was.

…

The Horntail was _huge. _Certainly bigger than any of the dragons currently residing at the reserve. Charlie watched with wide eyes as the more experienced trainers worked in tandem to get her settled and get out of there without losing life or limb.

They almost managed it too, but she opened one large eye a few seconds sooner than they were ready for.

Charlie could feel the heat from the jet of fire even beyond the safety barrier and he heard a shout of surprise and fear from Liam, Charlie's own personal trainer.

He reacted on instinct, his wings lifting him up and over the barrier. He flew until he was around the horntails reared head, until he caught her attention, and then he lifted higher, distracting her from the humans on the ground.

Charlie concentrated on staying out of her range until she seemed to settle a little. Carefully, Charlie dropped height until he was almost level with her head.

"Hey, pretty girl," he crooned, hoping to pacify her. "You're okay."

He continued in that vein until, from the corner of his eye, he saw the last of the trainers leaving the area.

Still following his instincts, Charlie flew closer still, until he was within touching distance. With a deep breath, he placed a hand against the side of her snout.

"That's it, pretty girl," he murmured. "You're so beautiful, aren't you? Such a good girl."

The Horntail huffed a cloud of smoke with no flames and slowly, she lay down in her new home. Charlie lowered himself with her, until he was standing on the ground beside her large head.

With a final pat to her scales, Charlie backed away slowly until he could slide through the small gap in the magical barrier.

"What the bloody hell was that!?" Liam burst out, as soon as Charlie was out safe. "You can fly? And apparently talk down Horntails! What the hell, Charlie?"

Charlie took a deep breath and then explained. Amelie smiled at him proudly from the middle of the group and when Charlie was finished speaking, he chanced a look at Liam.

"That's… I have no words," Liam admitted. "Thank you for that, you absolute nutter. Someone would have been really hurt if you hadn't taken the chance."

Charlie smiled.

"So, I think, after that, it's only right if we let you name her," Luke said, nodding to the paddock.

Charlie's eyes widened, but a name flew to the tip of his tongue without even needing to think about it. "Henrietta."

"Henrietta the Horntail," Amelie repeated thoughtfully. Then she shrugged. "I like it."

Liam nodded. "Henrietta it is. So… functional wings, huh?"

Like Amelie, the reactions ranged from jealousy to acceptance with barely a question. He should have known better than to fear the worst from these people. They were the best kind of people after all.

…

Being home was weird but good. Being home for the Quidditch World Cup was even better. It was great to spend some time with his siblings, bonding over one of the few things they could all agree on as being fun (except Percy, but Percy was… special).

A highlight, at least for Charlie, was meeting Harry.

He was a sweet kid, shy and easily embarrassed. While Charlie didn't get much time with him, he couldn't help but like him.

Anyone else with a name so famous would have tried to live up to it, Charlie was sure. Harry was just… a nice kid.

Of course, then it all went to shit, and Charlie regretted returning to England at all. Life in Romania was so much simpler.

…

"Did you see that kid?"

"Harry Potter, though. Did you expect anything else? He's practically a legend!"

"He handled Henrietta as well as Charlie boy does! I thought she was going to purr at one point!"

Charlie chuckled at his team as they packed up. The Triwizard Tournament had been… interesting to say the least, but watching Harry with Henrietta… Liam wasn't wrong when he said Harry had handled her as well as Charlie could.

That he'd managed to get the egg without even attempting to hurt her impressed Charlie as well, given the enchantment and spells the others had tried.

He wished he'd been able to speak with Harry for longer, but neither of them had the time. It was a shame.

...

"You okay?"

"Hmm?" Charlie looked up as Amelie sat down beside him. He was sitting on one of the sprawling hills overlooking the nursery, one of his favourite spots when he had downtime, which admittedly wasn't very often.

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

"News from home," Charlie replied softly. "I just… I feel like I should be doing more, you know? Voldemort coming back, the kids getting hurt… Mum says I don't _need _to go home, but I feel like I should."

"I'll miss you," Amelie said gently. "But if home is where you need to be, then it's where you need to be. You know you'll always be welcome back here—hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they just let you keep your room here for visits. The people love you, the dragons love you…"

Charlie smiled tiredly. "I just… everything is going to shit. And I'm doing nothing to help."

Amelie let her head rest against Charlie's shoulder. "You do what you need to do, Charlie-bear. We'll all be here to support you."

…

Charlie had somewhat relaxed about finding his mate. He'd settled into life on the reserve, amongst people that loved dragons as much as he did, and he was content with his life as it was. Even if he never found his mate… he didn't regret the path he'd chosen.

But back home, the war was worsening, and with every day that passed, Charlie felt more and more guilty that he was safely out of the way while his family remained in danger.

In the end, he felt he had no choice.

As much as he hated to leave the reserve, leave the dragons and humans that he'd found a home with, he knew that he had to go back to England.

"I'll come back," he murmured, stroking Henrietta's scales. "I promise."

…

The fight was brutal.

With Fred gone, Charlie didn't bother to hold back the viciousness of his grief when the fighting restarted. He battled as fiercely as the dragons he cared for, but the onslaught was ruthless. He lost track of his family, finding his father as the shielding spell burst around the hall, leaving a circle in the middle for Harry and Voldemort.

And then, Charlie realised what he was seeing and his stomach dropped to the floor.

There, in the middle of the Great Hall, waxing poetic about love to the Darkest Lord for decades, stood Harry Potter, with the wings of a Hungarian Horntail spreading out from his back.

As the spell rebounded and hit Voldemort, as the man fell and Harry was surrounded by people, Charlie fell back and leant against the wall.

That was his little sister's boyfriend. What in the fuck was he supposed to do now?

…

Except, Ginny had found her soulmate, and Harry was free. Charlie wasn't sure which was better in the long run if he was honest.

He knew Harry knew they were mates, had seen the emerald eyes watching Charlie's wings with a faint trace of longing and a whole lot of acceptance. Charlie didn't really know what that meant.

Eventually, he cornered Harry late one evening out in the yard of the Burrow.

"Hey," he murmured, dropping to the grass beside the younger man.

Harry's lips tilted up tiredly. "Hey."

"How are you doing?"

Harry shrugged, which was better than the 'fine' he gave every time someone else asked him in Charlie's opinion, so he'd take it.

"So, can you fly too?" Harry asked suddenly, turning his head to look at Harry. "I've never been able to ask anyone else and you're… well. Obviously, you're the only other person that I know has dragon wings so—"

"Yeah," Charlie interrupted with small grin. "I can fly too. Great isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's.. It feels like how I'd imagine freedom would feel."

"You're free now, right?" Charlie asked, after hearing the wistfulness in Harry's voice.

"Am I?" Harry asked, voice soft. "Will I ever be truly free? I did what I was destined to do, and I thought it would be enough, but… they expect me to be an Auror. They expect me to continue protecting the Wizarding World. They expect me to take the offered honorary wizengamot seat, and give interviews and—"

"Who is this 'they'?" Charlie asked, frowning.

Harry snorted. "The world? Everyone? I don't… how do I tell the whole world that they're wrong, that it's not what I want?"

"You don't owe them anything," Charlie said, his wings flexing slightly behind him. They were leaning towards Harry, and Charlie could feel the urge to just wrap them around the smaller man and keep him there, safe from the expectations of the world. "You saved them, many times over from all accounts. It's time to do something for yourself."

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't know what I want to do," he admitted.

"Well… maybe you can come visit me for a while, hmm?"

Harry frowned. "In Romania?"

Charlie nodded. "I'll be heading back in a week or so. You should come with me. I'll introduce you to Henrietta."

"Henrietta?"

"The Hungarian Horntail that you took an egg from."

"Oh Merlin, will she remember that? She'll set me on fire! You're just trying to get me eaten!"

Charlie laughed, and Harry grinned at him. It made his whole face light up, and Charlie wanted to always see that smile.

Then the smile dimmed. "Are you only offering because of… you know…" Harry gestured awkwardly between their wings.

"Because you're my soulmate?" Charlie offered up. Harry tinted pink and it was _adorable. _"I'm not offering just because of that, though… having you around to get to know you properly would be nice too. I just… you've been fighting for so long and now you don't have to. A change of scenery to go with the massive changes in your life might… help?"

Harry nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I… yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Charlie."

…

"Harry, this is Amelie and Liam, my best friends here. Amelie, Liam, this is Harry, my soulmate."

"Fuck you," Liam complained.

Charlie blinked and then frowned. He was about to ask what the hell the problem was when Liam pulled out a bag of galleons from his pocket and handed them over to Amelie.

Understanding dawned and Charlie shook his head at his friends.

"How did you know?" he asked, Amelie, raising his eyebrow.

"After the way he handled Henrietta? There was no way he _wasn't _your soulmate," she replied, a wide grin on her face.

Harry flushed lightly, and Charlie slipped his hand around Harry's squeezing gently. "You'll get used to these arseholes. Come on, I'll introduce you to the only being on the reserve _worth _knowing."

"I'm wounded," Amelie called, when Charlie led Harry away. "Wounded I tell you!"

"See you at dinner," Charlie called back.

"They seem… nice?" Harry offered, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"They're great, but also, I wasn't lying, they're both arseholes. You'll grow to love them, but if you ever want to feed them to a dragon, remember that it's bad for their digestion. It's the only way I make it through the day sometimes."

Harry laughed.

Charlie grinned back and continued on his way to Henrietta's paddock. He noticed that Harry hadn't pulled his hand away, and he smiled to himself. Henrietta came into view, and Charlie didn't think he could ever be more satisfied than he was in that moment.

His dragon (because she was his) and his soulmate, both within reach. Who could ask for more than that?

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Wing!fic

365 - 117. Pacify

1000 - 323. CharlieHarry


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges written at the bottom. **

**Pairing **\- DracoHarry

**Word Count **\- 652

* * *

**The Morning After **

* * *

He hated the morning after.

He woke with a banging headache, nausea rolling in his stomach, and a taste in his mouth like something had crawled their and _died. _

"You're young," he was told. "Go out and enjoy yourself!"

Going out was all well and good, but the aftermath almost made it not worth it. Harry pushed his face into the pillow. He didn't want to open his eyes, because he knew that, as soon as he did, the sun would assault him, and it would be a race to the bathroom to vomit.

"Make the world stop spinning," a voice beside him whispered.

Harry stiffened. He… had not been expecting another voice in his bedroom. His memories of the night before were murky at best, but he thought he would have remembered bringing that particular voice home. He normally did.

But… maybe he did remember. Flashes of grinding on the dancefloor, and flirty banter whispered into his ear passed through Harry's mind and he almost groaned.

What the hell had he been _thinking? _He really had to stop drinking.

"You're thinking too loud, Potter. Stop it."

Harry snorted into his pillow. "You're talking to loud," he grumbled out. "Shh, lemme die in peace."

"As if you'd ever want peace from me."

The sad thing was, Malfoy was probably right. After Hogwarts, after the war, when life had settled into some semblance of normal, Harry thought he was done with Draco Malfoy. Sure, he didn't hate him anymore, but anything beyond that was ridiculous.

Right? Right.

Except… wrong.

Because this wasn't the first time Harry had woken up with Draco beside him, complaining about their shared hangover.

It didn't seem to matter how many times Harry told himself that they weren't a _thing, _they continued to be a _thing. _

A hand flapped at him, groping until Harry was being tugged on to his side. "Go back to sleep, maybe death will fuck off."

Harry wanted to complain, but there was a face being buried against his back, and an arm winding around his waist, and he couldn't bring himself to voice anything.

Instead, he followed the advice and went back to sleep.

…

"Your sheets are dull, Potter. Sage is so last year."

"You could always not be in them," Harry replied, rolling onto his back. He felt a little better, having slept some more, and now he was craving something spectacularly greasy.

"You mean you're not going to fetch me breakfast in bed? Zero stars, Potter, I'm giving you a bad review."

"I wish Blaise had never decided that you needed to learn internet things with him," Harry muttered. "Get your lazy ass up, and we'll go to the cafe down the road. I need bacon. And eggs. And probably sausage."

"You mean you didn't get enough—"

"Finish that sentence, and I will banish you into the Thames."

Draco snorted. "Spoilsport."

…

"You know… we could stop arsing about?" Draco offered, when they both had their fill of coffee and grease.

"Hmm?"

"Well. I don't know about you, Potter, but I'm pretty sure at this point, we might as well as actually be dating."

"Pretty sure people I'm dating call me Harry," Harry replied. "And don't complain about the colour of my sheets."

"If we were actually dating, I might call you Harry, and I would _buy _you new sheets."

"Huh."

Draco nodded, satisfied. Harry smiled and got up from the table to pay for their breakfast. He got two more coffees to go while he was there, because caffeine was nectar from the god of hangovers as far as he was concerned.

They left the cafe together, and Draco nudged him with his hip. "So?"

"So what?"

"Are you gonna make an honest man out of me, or what?"

"I guess we could date. But, you should know, I'm only doing this for the new sheets."

"Of course you are."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - DracoHarry

365 - 119. Murky

1000 - 938. Sage


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 713

**Warning **\- Grief.

* * *

**A Chance To Say Goodbye **

* * *

He was frantic as he opened the map, stolen from Hermione's honey coloured beaded bag. If he could just—

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said, his voice catching in his throat.

He knew he must look a sight, but he didn't care. This was the way, it was, he'd be able to find Fred, the marauders map showed ghosts after all and Fred, well, he wouldn't leave George behind.

He just wouldn't.

Twins didn't separate like that. How could one half work without the other?

He searched each and every room painstakingly. With every one that passed with no sign of Fred, George felt his heart break a little more.

"George?"

He looked up and met emerald eyes. Harry looked as rough as George felt, his eyes rimmed red, his hair a mess, cuts and bruises littering his skin.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked softly.

"I, Fred… I thought I'd be able to find him, if I… if I used the map."

Harry stared at him for a long moment. "Fred… wouldn't come back as a ghost, George. I think you know that."

George shook his head in denial. "He wouldn't just leave me, Harry! He wouldn't!"

Harry held his hand out. "Come with me," he murmured.

George hesitated, looking down at the map in his lap.

"You're not going to find him on there, George. Trust me, come with me."

Slowly, George reached his hand out to take Harry's.

…

"Why are we in the forest?"

"Just… you'll see."

George waited and waited and waited. Just when he was about to give up, to leave Harry to whatever it was he was doing, Harry made a soft noise of triumph.

He stood, holding something in his hand, and looked at George. "I'm going to let you use this once, and then, it's going where you can't get to it. Understand?"

George shook his head. "Not really, Harry."

"Just… tell me that you know this is a one time deal. And that you can't tell anyone else about this."

"I… okay?"

Harry handed over a small stone. Turn it in your hand, three times."

George did as he was told, and then Fred was there, and George's legs gave out.

"Georgie," Fred murmured softly. He sat down in the grass beside his twin. The leaves moved slightly, so Fred wasn't a ghost.

"You left me," George accused, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You left me, Fred. How could you leave me?"

Fred sighed. "I'm sorry, George. It's not fair, it's not, but being a ghost… that's not who we are and you _know _that."

"You left me," George shouted. "What am I supposed to do without you? I can't… I don't know how…"

"Hey," Fred chastised gently. "You're going to go on and continue with everything we planned to do, you hear me? Mum needs you Georgie. Don't you hurt her more than she's already been hurt."

"I know," George whispered. "I know. I just… I don't know who I am without you."

"You'll find out," Fred replied. "And hey… you know I'm never actually going to leave you, right? I'll be right with you, for everything. And I'll be waiting for you, when the time comes—which better not be anytime soon, you hear?"

"I… yeah."

"I love you, Georgie."

"I love you too," George sobbed. "You… don't go, Fred… I can't… I'm not ready for you too—"

"You're never going to be ready, George, but I promise, it won't always hurt like this. And I'm with you, I promise. I'm always with you."

George dropped the stone as he sobbed into his hands and Fred faded away. Harry crouched beside him, rubbing a hand over his back as he picked the stone up and put it away.

"Thank you," George whispered, leaning into Harry. "Thank you for letting me see him."

Harry nodded silently, and George just leant more firmly against him. It was nice, to be close to someone, to feel the heat from Harry's body.

"Come on," Harry murmured, an indeterminable time later. "Your mum will be worried, you should go see her."

George nodded. "I… yeah. Yeah, I should."

Harry helped him up, and they walked side by side back to the castle.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Marauders Map

Basement - Wanda Maximoff - Twins

365 - 140. Frantic

1000 - 935. Honey


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 555

* * *

**A Tight Fit **

* * *

"You're in my way," Sirius complained, trying to shuffle down into the bed a little more so his head wasn't hanging over the top of the pillow awkwardly. "Shift over a bit, would you?"

"If I shift over any more, I'm going to end up on the floor, and that's not a thing I'm interested in doing in all honesty," Remus replied dryly, though he did try and shift back a little bit.

"I told you this wasn't going to work," James muttered. "We could just take it in turns like I already suggested and then—"

"No," Sirius growled. "I want to sleep with both of my boyfriends, not have one left alone in the cold!"

James huffed, but moved over just enough that Sirius could shuffle down so he was in between them.

"This is not comfortable," Remus muttered, a few minutes later. He was literally gripping the mattress to make sure he didn't fall off the edge of the bed. "Sirius… three people are not meant to sleep in a _single bed._"

"Well, maybe if you let me just sleep on top of you both like I suggested—"

"Not happening," James grumbled. "Do you remember the last time you did that? I had muscle ache in muscles I didn't even know I had for days after, and bruises everywhere because of your bloody elbows."

"Alright, alright," Sirius muttered, pouting.

James sighed and pressed a kiss to his head. "I don't mind sleeping in my own bed, you know? It's really not a problem. I won't think that you love Remus more than me or anything and at least that way, we'd all get some sleep."

Sirius shook his head. "No. I don't… I just want you both in reaching distance. The summer was too long and I missed you. Both of you."

Remus let go of the mattress with one hand to wrap it around Sirius, holding him against his chest. "We all missed each other, babe, but… you've gotta admit, this is just asking for trouble."

"Uh? Guys? What are you doing?"

Three heads popped up from beneath the single quilt to look at Peter. "We're attempting to talk some sense into Sirius about this horrible sleeping arrangement," James replied, rolling his eyes.

Peter frowned. "Why… why don't you just push two of the beds together and put a blanket over the join?"

Silence reigned for a moment and then Sirius started laughing. "Or we could just do what wormy suggested and use our actual brains."

James huffed and shifted back until he was on the floor, then stood up. "We're a bunch of dumbasses, obviously."

Sirius got up to help James push his bed upto Sirius'. Remus lay in the bed with his hands over his face.

"Moony? You okay?" James asked, huffing with the exertion of moving the bed. The four poster was heavier than it looked.

"I'm supposed to be the _smart one," _Remus complained.

"Don't worry, Moony," Sirius comforted. "Maybe you just didn't have enough chocolate today. We'll get you some more tomorrow."

They quickly arranged the blankets and before long, the three of them were twined around one another. Sirius sighed happily.

"Love you," he murmured.

James pressed a kiss to his temple. "Love you."

Remus echoed it a moment later, already half asleep. This was perfect.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - JamesSiriusRemus

365\. 135. Horrible

1000\. 201. JamesSiriusRemus


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 464

* * *

**One Last Night **

* * *

Albus packed his trunk carefully, each book stacked with the spine perfectly level with the one before it, every robe folded perfectly to prevent creases.

He was excited to go to Hogwarts, but he was nervous, and his nerves were showing in the perfectionism of his packing.

"Are you okay, Son?"

He turned to see his mother standing by the door, an understanding look on her face. He felt guilty that he was looking forward to leaving this place behind, since it meant leaving her here alone with Aberforth and Ariana.

He helped out as much as he could, but with him gone, she'd be all alone with the two youngest.

"I'm fine," she said, offering her a small smile. "Excited."

She nodded and stepped into the room. Her perfume permeated immediately, and Albus took a moment to absorb the familiar, comforting scent. He'd already packed a handkerchief soaked in the stuff, for when he was feeling particularly homesick.

"You're going to have a fantastic time, Son," she promised, squeezing his shoulders.

Albus leant back into her touch. It wasn't often his mother showed this much affection, but he supposed his leaving had inspired it. He certainly wasn't complaining.

"I'll miss you," he said softly.

"You should write home often," Kendra said softly. "Abe and Ari will want to hear news of the school I'm sure; especially Abe, since he'll be going in a few short years himself."

He nodded, and for a moment, leant back against her, soaking up her closeness. "I will, Mother, I promise."

She nodded, and with a final squeeze of his thin shoulders, she stepped back. "Sleep soon, son," she said as she stepped back towards the door. "You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and you'll need your rest."

Albus nodded, and she closed the door behind her. He took care to pack away the last few things, and then closed the lid, carefully locking it before he pulled it over to the door.

He climbed into his bed for the last time until Christmas, and wrapped his covers around himself. He would miss much about his home, and his bed was one of those things. Albus' father had hand carved the headboard when Albus had been younger, and it was an endless source of comfort, when Albus missed his dad too much to breathe properly.

With a sigh, Albus turned onto his side and closed his eyes. His mother had been right, he needed to sleep, lest he miss something the following day due to tiredness.

His first day at school was supposed to be one of excitement and joy, not concentrating on forcing his eyelids to remain open and his brain alert.

It would be good, he told himself. It would all be fine.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Dumbledore Era

365\. 78. Perfume

1000\. 941. Dumbledore Era


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 759

* * *

**Pity **

* * *

Most of the time, Sirius had no wish to leave his bedroom. To leave meant to give into the possibility of running into his mother, and that wasn't something Sirius was willing to do very often.

The old bag would only make him angry enough to do something wrong, and then take the greatest of pleasure in punishing him.

Sirius knew the pattern well enough, he'd been playing it his whole life.

But when the thunder was loud enough that it shook the house, and lightning forks lit up the room through the window, Sirius decided it was worth the chance of seeing her.

He hated thunderstorms, always had, for as long as he could remember. The loud claps of thunder were enough to make his hands tremble, and the flashes of lightning never failed to make him flinch.

He opened his door quietly and padded down the stairs. As far as Regulus had said earlier in the day, their mother should be out until late in the evening. His father would more than likely either be out of the house, of shut up in his office where he spent most of his time.

Sirius made his way all the way down to the ground floor without running into anyone, and he let out a sigh of relief when he found the library empty. The torches lit as he entered, and the fire flared into life, warming him.

He stood in front of the flickering fire for a few moments before he settled into his favourite armchair. Despite how much he utterly despised this house, he couldn't deny that he loved the library.

It was the only room in the house that felt homely.

The door banged open, and Sirius looked up to see his father entering.

"Oh. Sirius."

Orion stopped short at the door for a moment before he continued on his way, letting the door fall closed behind him with a snap.

"What are you doing in here?"

Sirius shrugged. "The thunder—"

"Right. You… you never did like storms when you were young. I… supposed I expected you'd have grown out of it by now."

Sirius stiffened in the seat and didn't reply. His dad didn't even notice. The absent way the words had been spoken told Sirius that it probably wasn't even meant to be offensive or derogatory. It was just his father paying very little attention; as usual.

"How is school?" His father asked awkwardly after a few minutes of silence.

"Fine," Sirius replied with a shrug. Honestly, if he'd had his way at all, he'd still be there. It was only his mother's _insistence _that had forced him from the castle for the Christmas break.

"Good, good. Your classes?"

"Fine."

Orion poured himself a large whisky from the small bar in the corner and sighed. "You know, this is why your mother gets so angry with you. You refuse to communicate."

"I communicate just fine with the people that count," Sirius muttered, looking away. Loud enough for his father to hear, he said, "Mother hates me. It's just the way it is."

"You're her son, of course she doesn't hate you, you ridiculous boy. If only you'd try and do as you were told once in a while—"

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I don't agree with a lot of what this family stands for. I won't pretend I do just to satisfy mother."

Orion rubbed at his temple. "She'll be home soon, Sirius. You should go to bed. She's been spending time with Druella this evening, and you know that means that there has been copious amounts of alcohol been consumed."

Sirius barely bit back a groan, but he nodded. He'd take even the thunderstorm over interacting with his mother when she'd been drinking.

He stood and made his way to the door.

"Sirius… I know that you don't… feel like you fit in this family, but… I love you, Son. And I'm proud of you."

Sirius didn't look back. He'd believe it more if his father could say the words without the courage of whisky, or the absence of his wife.

One thing his father had taught him was how he _didn't _want to live his life. He'd marry for love, or he wouldn't marry at all. The thought of being married to anyone even remotely like Walburga Black was enough to make him shiver.

He thought that was one reason why he could never truly hate his father like he did his mother. There was too much pity getting in the way.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Sirius&Orion

365 - 126. Mother

1000 - 452. Thunder and Lightning


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 503

* * *

**Possession **

* * *

Tom stood backstage, leaning against a tall column. From where he was, he had a perfect, undisturbed view of Harry, in the middle of the stage, with just his guitar and a mike stand for company.

He loved listening to Harry sing.

The crowd did too, and as Harry came to the end of his song, they went wild, screaming and crying out for more. Tom's thin lips stretched into a smile. They _loved _him, and yet, Harry was _his._

When the set was over, and Harry had done his encore, Tom wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder and led him out the back way into the waiting car. Occasionally, they stayed for Harry to engage with his fans, but not tonight.

Tonight, Tom wanted Harry all to himself.

He slid into the backseat beside Harry, and lifted his arm. Harry tucked himself against Tom's side, closing his eyes as he nuzzled his face against Tom's neck. Tom finally felt himself relax into the leather seat.

This was what he needed, what he always needed. Though he loved to hear Harry sing, he hated that he had to share that magic with others. Harry should be his, only ever his, and yet, millions of people across the globe felt like they could claim him simply because they streamed his music or bought his albums.

"How'd I do?" Harry asked, tone low and sleepy.

"You were magnificent," Tom replied softly. "As you always are. One more night, my love, and then you'll be all mine once more."

Harry sighed and snuggled closer still. "It will be nice to go home for a while," he admitted. "I'm a little tired of hotel rooms."

Tom nodded. While they only stayed in the best hotels, Tom craved seeing _his _Harry spread out on _his _bed, in _his _house.

"I'll book the jet for immediately after the show tomorrow, then," Tom promised. "We'll be home before you know it."

Harry smiled up tiredly, his emerald eyes hooded. Tom knew he wouldn't make it back to the hotel before he was asleep. "What would I do without you?"

Tom nudged Harry's temple with his nose. "You'll never have to find out."

And he wouldn't. Tom had made sure of that over the years, removing any threat to their relationship. Anybody who could have even the slightest sway on Harry was taken out of the equation, swiftly and cruelly.

Tom had possessed Harry entirely, and nobody would ever get close enough to try and take Harry away from him.

Not that he thought Harry would try and leave. Tom was proud to indulge every single whim of Harry's, he did whatever was necessary to keep the smile on Harry's face at all times.

Harry being happy was Tom's primary objective, because if he was happy, then he wouldn't ever try and leave.

"Hmm, love you," Harry hummed, settling against Tom once more, his eyes drifting shut.

"I love you too, my Harry," Tom replied. "Sleep, sweetheart. I'll look after you."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Tom Riddle

365\. 137. Indulge

1000\. 336. Singing


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for** Amber, for the gift tag prompts - AlbusGellert, "I don't want to love you anymore."

**Word Count **\- 751

* * *

**In Another Life **

* * *

The battle between the two of you will go down in history. You know that, even as you watch Gellert be led away. You've been congratulated heartily, gratitude is being rained on you and you take it with a modest smile that covers the way your heart is breaking.

You never wanted to face him, even though you knew all along that eventually, you would have little choice in the matter. It was always going to end this way, though it could have easily been your body laid in the ground instead of him being led to prison.

You were aiming to capture, but there was no mistaking the malicious way he smirked at you. Gellert was aiming to kill.

You wonder if he hates you so much that he wants you dead, but you know it's nothing quite so personal. You were in his way, and he needed you gone.

It was personal for you though. You always had a weak heart. It falls too easily, too quickly, but when it falls, it holds firm in it's conviction.

You still love him. You think you'll always love him.

…

The cell was tiny and you feel a little bit sick when you sit on the ground outside of it and look in at him.

He's been there for a few weeks, and already, he is looking worse for wear. His hair is knotted and tangled, and his eyes are duller than you've ever seen them.

"Here to gloat?" he asks, and you shake your head mutely. You think he knows that you're not, because he always knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling. He always knows how to use it against you.

"I… wanted to see how you are," you admit quietly, and even as the words leave your lips you know it's foolish. He's in prison, and he'll spend the rest of his life there.

He rolls his eyes at you, and it's so familiar that you almost smile. It takes you back to when you were both younger, more innocent.

Gellert certainly isn't innocent now, but then, neither are you.

"I don't want to love you anymore," you admit, because this is why you're really here. You love him, even though you know you shouldn't.

"But you do," he replies, and he is so sure of himself. "You always will, Albus. You can lock me up, but you'll never be rid of me."

The words bite at you, and he smirks. It hurts, because that smirk belongs to another Gellert, not yours. This Gellert isn't your Gellert, and yet, you love him because you don't know how to stop.

"I won't come back here," you tell him, and you mean it.

He stares at you for a long time and then turns away without a word. When you leave, it is with his back to you and no goodbye.

…

Fawkes flashes you there and you sigh when you look into the cell. It's like you built it up in your mind, made it bigger, more humane.

He is old like you, but you can still see hints of the boy you fell in love with so many years ago.

"I knew you'd come back," Gellert murmurs. "You've kept me waiting longer than I expected though."

"They want to lock me up too, now," you say and it makes him smile. "Perhaps I'll be your cellmate, if they catch me."

"They won't catch you," he says and he's as sure as he ever is. You envy that about him, that certainty.

You nod though, because in this, he is right. They won't catch you because you don't want to be caught.

"Why are you here, Albus?"

You sigh, and stroke the top of Fawkes head. "Because I asked Fawkes to take me to safety. Despite… everything…"

"I always was your security blanket," Gellert says and it's a taunt but there is a softness beneath it.

"My time is coming, Gellert. I can feel it. I suppose… I suppose I wanted to see you, one last time."

Gellert stares at you for a moment, and then he puts his hand against the bars, and you echo him. Your fingers touch, and for a moment, you are the schoolboys that you once were, full of energy and passion and visions of a beautiful future.

"I never did stop loving you," you admit, a whisper, a promise.

You watch Gellerts lips tilt up. "Perhaps, Albus, in another life, that'll be enough."

* * *

**Also Written for; **

Auction - Exes

365\. 124. Malicious

1000\. 288. AlbusGellert


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 561

* * *

**The Last Strings **

* * *

It was cloudy when he Apparated in. The house wasn't hard to find, it was the biggest in the village, on a hill overlooking the smaller properties.

Tom sneered at it. His father lived in opulence while he'd grown up sharing a room with boys that hated him and a caretaker that didn't care one joy about him.

Nobody paid him any attention as he approached the house, though he didn't pass the gates. Not at first. He lingered, watchful and waiting for the right moment.

It came, as the sun set, and Tom finally allowed himself to push the gate open and walk up the winding path to the house.

He thought to knock, but instead, with a little twitch of his hand, opened the door with his magic and stepped inside.

The Riddle house, they called it, down in the village. Home, Tom should have been able to call it, if only his father hadn't been a spineless coward.

Tom walked through the house, following the noise of his _family _eating dinner. When he opened the door, three people turned to look at him. At first they frowned at him, and the oldest man opened his mouth, presumably to ask just who he was, but then, recognition dawned.

Tom saw the moment they really looked at him and saw the similarities between Tom and the man he was named for.

"Who _are _you, young man?" the woman asked, sitting up in her seat, looking between Tom and his _father. _

"Your _grandson_," Tom sneered. His wand slid down his sleeve into his hand, though he hid it behind his back. His eyes were on his father.

Tom Sr couldn't meet his gaze. He was pale, and sweat was beading on his head. He gripped the table so tightly, his knuckles were white under the pressure.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough with fear.

"I want you to suffer," Tom growled. "Like I have since I was born, left at an orphanage to rot because you left my mother alone and unwanted."

"Tom?" his grandmother said, looking at her son.

"She named me for you, you know?" Tom said, not letting his father speak, not that it looked like he planned on it. "Tom Riddle Junior. That's how I found you so easily. Maybe that's why she did it."

"I suppose you want a pay-off, young man?" his grandfather asked, and Tom laughed, high and cold.

"You can keep your filthy money," he replied. "There's something I want far more than whatever riches you possess."

"Oh?"

Tom nodded, and once more, his eyes were trained on his father. "I want your lives."

The green light that flashed once, twice, thrice from his wand brought Tom the greatest pleasure. He finished the ritual he'd planned and the ring he'd stolen from his uncle settled with a slice of Tom's soul inside.

He left the bodies where they were, frozen in fear, for the muggles to find. Someone would come looking eventually, he was sure, and if they didn't, well… all the better.

Tom hoped they rotted.

He left the house feeling lighter than he even had before. The last strings attaching him to muggles were gone and he had begun his journey into immortality.

He didn't look back at the house as he left. He had no need to.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Riddle House

365 - 125. Satisfy

1000 - 459. Cloudy


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 600

* * *

**A Matter of Pride **

* * *

"Dear Merlin, just when I thought you couldn't get any stupider!"

Barty watched his father's mustache quiver in anger. It always did that. It was one of the first warning signs.

Not that being warned helped anything, not with his Father. It wasn't like Barty could run away. He'd tried it once before and it had not ended well for him.

"These marks are terrible, boy! You knew my expectations!"

Yes, Barty had known the expectations. His father _expected _perfection, and when he didn't get it, he got mad. Barty had never met his father's expectations because he _wasn't _perfect. He'd never pretended to be, and he'd long since stopped striving for the unattainable.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" his father demanded.

He was red cheeked now, and there was a vein throbbing almost purple.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Barty said, his voice meek. He knew it wouldn't help, nothing ever did, but there was a chance it could at least minimise the damage coming his way.

"Sorry doesn't fix the mark on your record, does it?"

"No, Sir."

The belt stung, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

When Barty returned to Hogwarts, his peers congratulated him on almost straight O's in his O.W.L.s, and he accepted them with a barely polite grimace.

Any joy he could have taken from his marks had long since been ruined.

…

He got straight O's on his N.E.W.T.s, and his Father nodded at him over the breakfast table. There was no words of pride or congratulations, and the tiny part of Barty that still craved his father's approval died at that moment.

It wouldn't matter what he did, he was never going to measure up to the expectations held aloft.

His mother hugged him tightly and told him _she _was proud of him, but it just… wasn't the same.

…

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Regulus asked.

Barty was surprised by the hesitense when he approached Regulus about joining the Dark Lord. Surely Regulus should be excited that Barty was going to join the ranks, join him, but there was a certain glint in Regulus' eyes that spoke of unrest.

"I'm positive," he replied regardless.

It was the truth. An act of rebellion, sure, but also a deep need for someone, anyone, to tell him well done after a job completed.

He'd heard whispers in school of the rewards given to Death Eaters who served their master well.

Barty wanted that.

He wanted to make someone proud.

…

The mark burned on his arm, and Barty Apparated to his master's side, and took his place in the circle. It had taken work, _hard work, _to make his way up the ranks but he'd done it and it was _so worth it. _

"Barty, report."

Barty did so, including the details he knew his master loved, and when he was done, he stood with his head low, waiting for whatever his report would bring.

"You did well, Barty. I'm proud of you."

The words were like a balm, and Barty almost crumbled. His master passed by him to the next, but Barty paid little attention to the rest of the reports. The words were still echoing in his head on a loop and he let himself enjoy them.

…

"How could you do this?" his father asked, standing on the outside of the cell looking in.

Barty stared at him for a long moment. "He was proud of me," he whispered.

"You're a disgrace," his father spat.

Barty smiled. "But my master was proud of me."

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Barty Crouch Jr

365 - 185. Moustache

1000 - 237. "Dear Merlin, just when I thought you couldn't get any stupider."


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 576

* * *

**Everyone Cries At Weddings **

* * *

"You are beautiful," Rowena murmured, gazing at Helga. "Truly. Godric will not know what's hit him."

Helga smiled, and it brightened the room. Rowena's heart hurt, but she pushed the pain aside and smiled back.

"Thank you for helping me get ready," she murmured, leaning over to kiss Rowena's cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Rowena agreed. "You should join me for lunch, you can tell me all about your date."

Helga nodded and with a final glance at herself in the mirror, she left the room. Rowena slumped down onto the bed, and rubbed a hand over her face. Helping Helga ready herself for a date with a handsome man was the job of a best friend, but Rowena had long since hoped for more.

Not that she'd ever expected anything, from Helga, but it didn't stop it hurting, the proof that she'd never have the woman she loved.

A knock on the door sounded, and Rowena looked up in time to see Salazar slip inside.

"Are you okay, my dear?"

Rowena nodded, and when Salazar sat beside her, she leant her head against his shoulder. Many thought Salazar cold and unfeeling, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

"Come, my dear. Let us dine together."

She nodded. She knew he was hurting too, his feelings for Godric matched her own for Helga.

Salazar stood and offered her his hand, which she took immediately. When she was on her feet, he rested her hand into the crook of his arm.

No matter that she couldn't have Helga the way she craved, Rowena knew that she was still a lucky woman. She had Helga in her life, and Salazar was the best friend she could ever hope to have.

…

"It was wonderful," Helga gushed, a warm smile on her face.

Rowena loved to see her so happy, even if not because of her. She listened as Helga told her all about the date, about how gentlemanly Godric had been, and how they had shared a chaste kiss at the end of the night.

"I'm glad you had a good time," she said quietly, her eyes on her food. The conversation had drained her appetite, but to not eat would draw questions, so she forced herself to finish three quarters of the meal.

"I'm so happy," Helga said, when she'd finished her recounting.

"That's all I ever wanted for you," Rowena replied. She wasn't even lying.

…

"I cannot stay here any longer," Salazar murmured against her hair. "I cannot watch them marry and—"

"I understand," Rowena murmured. "I don't like it, but I understand. You have to do what's right for you."

"Come with me," Salazar offered. "We could travel together."

"You know I can't," Rowena whispered. "I belong here, at the school we all created, teaching the young minds. The school would not last without the two of us. We'll struggle without you, Sal, but for the both of us to leave would mean the end of Hogwarts."

He nodded because he knew she was right. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

…

Rowena watched as Helga and Godric said "I do."

She'd never been any competition for Helga's hand, but it still pained her to see Godric win so thoroughly.

A single tear slipped down her face, and she didn't bother to disguise it. Everyone cried at weddings after all.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Rowena Ravenclaw

365 - 120. Competition

1000 - 942. Founders Era


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 758

* * *

**Mine **

* * *

The blood scented wonderfully, and saliva pooled in his mouth. He _wanted, _he _craved. _The man's skin was the colour of honey, a light golden brown. His eyes were green, darker than emerald but bright with intelligence. His hair, jet black and messy on his head, was the perfect length to grip and hold in place.

Severus knew he shouldn't, knew that this particular man should be entirely off limits, but the scent of him, aged into perfection, was too strong to resist.

He followed him through the cobbled streets, sticking to the shadows with ease. Why Potter was travelling alone, Severus didn't know, but it worked to his advantage regardless. He'd come to France to avoid seeing those that had known him when he'd been naught but a mortal.

Potter was the last person he'd expected to run into on the old streets of Montmartre.

Severus watched carefully when Potter entered a hotel, and with a quick wave of his hand, he changed his appearance enough to follow the man inside and up the staircase.

He had no plan as to how to get Potter to agree to let Severus feed from him, but he'd use force if he really had to. Never had someone's blood called to him so strongly before. He had no intention of killing the Man Who Won, of course, and he'd ensure he left no trace of his presence behind but…

He simply couldn't control _this _need.

Oddly, Potter left the door to his suite open just a crack. Severus frowned but pushed the door further open.

Potter was sitting on the bed, his wand on the sheets beside him. His hands were folded in his lap, and he was watching Severus with a curious glint in his eyes.

"You knew I was following you," Severus said, as he stepped into the suite and closed the door behind him.

"Of course I did. You've been following me for almost an hour."

"And you let me? Have you lost your mind, Potter?"

Potter snorted. "Always protecting me, even from yourself. I was… curious. So yes, I let you. This… explains a lot, though I would like the details, if you don't mind."

"And if I do?"

Potter shrugged. "Then I suppose I'll remain forever curious."

"Sanguini found me, in the Shack," Severus said after a long moment of charged silence. "He turned me, rather than drain me. He's never explained why but… I suppose I don't have the room to question the one who saved me."

Potter nodded slowly. "Fair enough. We looked, afterwards, but obviously we didn't find you. I've always wondered."

Snape nodded. He'd seen the many Prophet articles in the immediate aftermath, questioning what happened to him.

"Well, you followed me for a reason," Potter said then, tilting his head slightly to offer a better look at his neck.

"Potter… you can't just offer your neck to a _vampire._ Do you have a death wish?!"

"Was there another reason for following me, if not to drink from me?" Potter asked, brow furrowing slightly.

"Well, no, but that's hardly the—"

"I have a lot of sightseeing planned for tomorrow," Potter interrupted. "And since it's entirely likely that I'll sleep like the dead once you're done, sooner would be better than later."

The offer was too much, and Severus could no longer hold himself back. He moved forwards until he was leaning over Potter.

"Relax," he whispered, before his teeth sunk into the unblemished skin. The blood was even better on his tongue than it had been in his nostrils, and a feeling of pure elation filled him as he drank until he was full.

Pulling back, he licked over the puncture wounds to close them, and helped Potter lay back on the bed with his head against the pillows.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Potter opened his eyes long enough to smile dazedly up at him. "Mine."

Severus blinked down at him but he was already asleep. And yet… the single word made sense. The scent, the elation, the… need. He'd never felt that before, not with anyone or for anyone.

Severus rubbed a hand over his face. When he'd been doomed to eternal life, he'd never expected… this.

Not with Potter.

He couldn't take the young man's life like that. He couldn't…

But the thought of leaving was a physical pain, and he instinctively knew that no other would satisfy him in the way Harry did.

Severus looked at the sleeping man and felt himself soften. Harry had been right.

"Mine."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Vampire

365 - 74. Eternal

1000 - 935. Honey


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 429

* * *

**Weird and Wonderful **

* * *

Kingsley let himself into the house, discarding his cloak and shoes before he moved into the living room. He froze at the door.

Living with Harry meant he often came how to weird and wonderful surprises, but walking into the living room to find a fully grown lion lying on the rug, covered with one of Kingsley's robes, wasn't on the list of expectations.

"Erm."

The lion blinked it's eyes open and stared at Kingsley.

Then it's tongue lolled out.

Kingsley snorted. The green eyes were too familiar for him to not grasp the situation, and he stepped forwards. The lion sat up, and when Kingsley sat down in the large armchair closest to the fire, it pounced, large paws landing on the arms.

"Yes, hello, Harry," Kingsley greeted, grinning. "Quintessential Gryffindor that you are, I'm not surprised by this in the slightest."

The lion licked Kingsley's face playfully, leaving behind a trail of saliva.

"You're gross," Kingsley muttered. "How about you change back and kiss me properly in greeting, hmm?"

The lion closed its eyes, and a moment later, Harry was himself again, his hair even messier than normal, and a bright smile on his face.

"I did it," he chuffed, climbing onto Kingsley's lap.

"You did," Kingsley agreed. "I'm proud of you, I know how hard you've worked at this."

Harry grinned, and then he wrinkled his nose. "You're going to make me register aren't you?"

"The problem with dating the Minister is that you should probably follow the law," Kingsley replied, amused. He kissed Harry on the nose. "But I won't make you do anything, and I won't grass you up if you choose not to register your form. I understand how useful it can be to have a disguise that nobody knows about."

"Or… you could hide my registration?" Harry offered.

"Or I could do that," Kingsley agreed.

Harry nodded and settled into Kingsley's chest. "Did you have a good day at the office?"

"Hmm, it was fine," Kingsley replied, wrapping his arms around Harry. "Missed you. I don't like you having a day off when I'm working, you're not there to come visit me."

Harry pressed a kiss to Kingsley's neck. "M'sorry. I made dinner though. Lasagne."

"Sounds perfect."

Kingsley could feel the natural tension of the day at the ministry melting away, and the weight of Harry got a little heavier as his boyfriend dozed.

Dinner could wait, Kingsley decided. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He was comfortable right where he was.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Animagus

365 - 75. Tongue

1000 - 917. Playful


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 577

* * *

**You're Not Alone **

* * *

Remus stood by the door, leaning on the frame. Hermione was in the nursery, rocking Teddy back and forth, humming a melody that Remus didn't recognise.

When she turned and saw him there, she smiled at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. She gently placed Teddy in his crib and walked over to Remus.

The two of them walked down the stairs, and entered the living room.

"Thank you for looking after him, has he been okay for you?" Remus said, as Hermione retook the seat she'd clearly been occupying before seeing to Teddy.

"Perfect as always," Hermione confirmed, as she tidied her things up.

Remus smiled. "You don't have to rush off, you know. You're welcome to stay, the guest room is made up for you."

It was an offer he made every week, and sometimes Hermione accepted, and others, she left.

She hesitated for a moment then smiled. "I… that would be great, thank you."

He nodded and then offered her a book. "It made me think of you, so I picked up a copy while I was at the shop."

She looked over the cover, and the smile on her face softened. "Thank you."

Remus nodded and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Hot chocolate?"

She met his eyes and grinned. They shared a deep love of chocolate. "As if you even need to ask."

…

"What are you doing down here?"

It was the middle of the night, and nightmares had pushed Remus from his bed. He hadn't expected to find Hermione on the sofa, looking morosely into the flames in the fireplace.

She startled and looked up, and he gasped at the red rimmed eyes and the remnants of tears still on her face.

She tried to wipe away the evidence, but he couldn't unsee the look of pain in her eyes.

He sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She stiffened for a moment, and then fell against him, sobbing into his shirt.

"Sshh," he murmured, rocking them both a little.

"Sorry," she choked out, when she had a little semblance of control. "I just… they seem… _so real." _

"Nightmares?"

She nodded, and he sighed. "I know."

"It's been a year but... sometimes, it still feels like I'm there."

The war had been hard on all of them, but Hermione had been right in the middle of the worst of it, steadfast at Harry's side throughout all of it. Remus wasn't surprised that she was still suffering from the lingering memories.

He often wondered if any of them would ever heal fully.

"You're not alone, you know," he offered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

The feelings for her had crept up on him, and Remus was happy enough to just have her in his life that he'd never thought to act on them. Not even when he saw her with Teddy. She was so good with him.

She looked up at him. He saw her leaning towards him, and for a moment, he thought perhaps he should move, should tell her no because he didn't want to ruin what they had, but then her lips met his, softly, questioningly, and he couldn't.

He wanted her, and to deny her would hurt her needlessly. If she wanted him too… Tonks had taught him that sometimes risks were worth taking.

"You're not alone either," Hermione whispered when she pulled back.

"I know," he replied. "I know. I have you."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - HermioneRemus

365 - 121. Melody

1000 - 260. "It made me think of you."


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word count **\- 556

* * *

**To Be Useful**

* * *

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am."

"I know you're lying."

"Of course you do."

"Poppy."

Minerva interrupted Poppy's busy hands by wrapping her own around them gently.

"Minerva," Poppy sighed. "The wing isn't going to clean itself."

"The wing can wait for a moment. You've been working non stop for far too many hours."

"Things need to be done," Poppy replied, trying to tug her hands away. She'd been cleaning the tables on which she'd built up the empty potion vials and discarded wrappings. Minerva kept her hold. "And those things will not do themselves. You look tired, you should sleep."

"So should you," Minerva replied sternly.

"Go forth and prosper, Minerva. I'll be fine."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Your patients are all sleeping, come with me. We can set an alarm over the room in case anybody has need of you, and I'll even call up one of the other professors to keep watch if it would make you feel better. Just… come and lay down with me for a while."

Poppy knew she was right, but the thought of leaving, of losing another patient, was enough to send her into cold sweats. "I—"

"Please," Minerva added, her voice soft enough that it could have been a beg. "Even if you don't sleep, I need too. I'm not foolish enough to believe I will escape the nightmares, but it'd be better if I could wake up to you instead of alone."

"I can give you some dreamless sleep," Poppy replied, almost automatically, but she softened at the pinch in Minerva's brow. "Okay. If Filius wouldn't mind coming to sit in, I'll come with you for a few hours."

…

Poppy lay stiffly on the bed, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She could be being useful, instead of laying her doing nothing, but Minerva was hard to say no to. She always had been, for Poppy at least.

The woman in question stepped out of the bathroom, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her nightgown hanging from thinned shoulders. She'd lost weight over the past year; then again, they all had.

Stress was a universally terrible diet plan.

Minerva climbed into the bed, and settled on her side, facing Poppy. For a long moment, there was silence.

"I love you," Minerva whispered into the darkness.

"I love you too."

…

She woke to whimpers. Poppy hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep until Minerva's nightmare interrupted her, but she turned on her side and gently shook Minerva until brown eyes opened.

The terror in them broke Poppy's heart, and she tugged Minerva closer, into her arms, until Minerva's head was pillowed against her shoulder. The strongest woman Poppy had ever met sobbed into Poppy's nightshirt.

"I couldn't find you," Minerva managed to choke out eventually. "I searched the whole castle and you were—"

"I'm right here," Poppy interrupted, soft but firm. "Right here, Min. It'll take more than a Death Eater invasion to force me from Hogwarts."

Minerva tucked herself closer. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming here with me. To wake up alone after that… it would have made it much worse."

Poppy's heart swelled with love, and she rubbed a hand up and down Minerva's back. Perhaps being useful didn't only have to happen in the hospital wing after all.

* * *

**Written for; **

Liza's Lodes - 6. A femmeslash pairing

Auction - Poppy Pomfrey

Gym - Back Extension Machine - Dreamless Sleep

Face Painting - Superhero Set - 3. Wonder Woman: "I know you're lying." / Symbol Set - 2. Moon: Sleeping Potion

365 - 73. Prosper

1000 - 362. Cleaning


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 614

* * *

**Run Free **

* * *

Remus let himself into the house, his arms laden with bags. He moved straight through to the kitchen to relieve himself of the burden, and, stretching his hands out to get his blood flowing again, he called for Sirius to join him.

Only for nothing to happen.

Remus frowned. Sirius hadn't mentioned that he was going out before Remus left the house; in fact, he'd been quite certain he wasn't going anywhere. He'd wrapped himself in his blanket and pouted when Remus refused to stay home with him.

"Sirius!" he called again.

Still no answer.

He was about to go upstairs to see if the lazy shit had gone to sleep when movement in the back garden caught his eye.

Walking over to the double glass doors, he watched as Sirius ran around the grass, chasing the pigeons that seemed to be taunting him. Not that he was genuinely trying to catch them, but he looked like he was having fun.

Remus opened the door and called, "Padfoot, what on earth are you doing?"

The dog's ears pricked up, and seconds later, Remus had a black dog against him, up on his hind legs, licking Remus' face.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good to see you too," Remus murmured, gently knocking the dogs legs so it dropped back to the floor. He wiped his face with his scarf and shook his head.

"What are you like?" he murmured, running a hand through the soft fur on Padfoot's head. "You wanna go for a walk?"

Padfoot's tongue lolled out and Remus rolled his eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes. You know you're going to have to go on the lead, right?"

Padfoot slipped past Remus into the house, and came back a minute later with the lead held loosely in his mouth.

Remus looped the collar around his neck and closed the doors. They slipped out of the back gate and Padfoot fell into step beside Remus easily.

They didn't do this often, but there were times when Sirius really needed to just not be human for a while. Remus thought it stemmed back to way he'd used his animagus form while he was in Azkaban.

Padfoot was as much a part of Sirius' identity now as his human form was. It helped, Remus supposed, since Sirius still couldn't go out in Wizarding public without mass panic; despite him being cleared by the Minister after the clusterfuck in the Department of Mysteries.

Honestly, he should have known this would be necessary when he'd seen the utterly woebegone look on Sirius' face that morning.

They stopped at the park and Remus released him from the lead. He walked slowly around the large field, keeping one eye on Padfoot running around like he'd never known freedom before.

Eventually, Remus took a seat against a large tree trunk, the grass damp against his trousers. He conjured a tennis ball in his pocket, and when Padfoot approached, he threw it as hard as he could in the opposite direction.

They played fetch for a while, until Padfoot, panting but seemingly much happier, trotted over and slumped beside Remus, putting his head on Remus' lap.

Remus ran a hand through his fur and then tried to tug the ball from his mouth. Padfoot growled playfully before he released it.

Grinning, Remus checked around them before he conjured a bowl and filled it with water for the parched dog.

"Feeling better," Remus murmured, when the water was half gone.

Padfoot licked his palm, and Remus clipped the lead onto his collar.

When they got home, Padfoot turned into Sirius, and Remus was engulfed in a warm embrace.

"Thank you," Sirius murmured.

"Anytime."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Padfoot Animagus

Gym - Stair Stepper - Running

Funfair - Face Painting - Animal Set, 3. Dog: Growl / Creature Set, 4. Werewolf: Running

365 - 112. Identity

1000 - 8. Woebegone


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 305

_AN - This is insane. Crack!fic. Also Sam's fault. So. Happy reading? _

* * *

Avoiding The Crazy

* * *

Percival watched with wide eyes as Newt took the mundane looking suitcase from the guard with gentle hands. He—there was no other word for it—caressed the shell of the case, checking for damage and scowled deeply at the guard as he turned away.

He looked genuinely angry, though Percival couldn't quite work out why. Sure, he knew that Newt kept his creatures in the case, but surely there was magic in place that stopped them from being disturbed or hurt when the suitcase was moved?

The almost lazy way that Newt ran his hands over the leather looked strangely intimate, and Percival shuffled slightly, feeling like he was _intruding _on a private moment.

Which was ridiculous. Because that was a man and a _suitcase. _Except perhaps not so much because then Newt spoke and Percival was quite sure his jaw would have dropped open if he didn't have excellent control on his facial expressions.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Newt whispered _to the case. _"I'll clean you up properly when we get home."

Percival blinked. "Is everything okay, Mr Scamander?" he asked, his head tilted to the side slightly.

"We're fine," Newt replied absently, holding the suitcase to his chest. "Be glad to get home though. Thank you for the escort, Sir."

Nodding, Percival offered his hand, and the two of them shook hands briefly. He'd thought to ask Newt out to dinner, before the man returned to England, but now he was thinking that perhaps it was best that he'd avoided that crazy.

He'd had plenty of crazy to deal with in the last few months. He certainly didn't need any more, not for a while at least.

He watched as Newt walked away, _cradling _the case, and whispering what Percival could only assume were sweet nothings… to a _suitcase. _

Yes, definitely best to avoid _that. _

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Newt/Suitcase

Fair - Symbol, 6. Rainbow: Suitcase / Animal, 8. Lion: Lazy

365 - 129. Mundane

1000 - 65. Newt Scamander


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count - **815

* * *

**I'm Okay, I'm With You **

* * *

**1991**.

"I didn't expect anyone else to be staying," Theo admitted, as he sat down by the fire next to Blaise.

"My mother is with her newest husband," Blaise replied, rolling his eyes. "I just… couldn't be bothered dealing with it. There's no point getting close to them."

Theo nodded. "My dad has a date with a bottle of firewhisky, the same as every Christmas."

Blaise nodded to the chest set in the corner. "We can have a good Christmas together then. I'll even let you play white."

Theo rolled his eyes. "As if I need an advantage against _you." _

Blaise grinned. "We'll find out."

…

**1992**.

_Dear Theo, _

_Happy Christmas! I'm so utterly bored at home, and sincerely miss the chess set from last year. My mother's husband is a bore of the highest degree, I'll be surprised if I make it through lunch without falling asleep in the gravy! _

_How's your Christmas going? Did you get anything nice? _

_I have a present for you, but I don't really want to send it, so you're going to have to have it late, I'm afraid. Hopefully it will be worth it though. _

_See you soon,_

_Blaise. _

_Dear Blaise,_

_Merry Christmas to you too! I moved past boredom days ago. I've even finished my homework already, it's been so ridiculously dull. _

_My father started early on the alcohol, so he's already passed out in front of the fire. At least it means I don't have to listen to the Nott Family History like usual, right? _

_As soon as we get back to Hogwarts, I'll beat you at chess to remind you of your shocking defeat last year. I'll even let you play with the white pieces. _

_I'm sending your present via owl, because it's small enough, but I'm excited to see what you got me and hear if you like yours. _

_See you soon, _

_Theo. _

…

**1993**.

"I don't think I can move," Theo complained rubbing his slightly extended stomach. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I was right there with you," Blaise moaned. He was slumped on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"So… next year, we probably don't accept a challenge about food from Crabbe and Goyle, huh?"

"Never again," Blaise agreed. "Not ever."

…

**1994**.

"Are you okay?"

Blaise nodded, changing silently into his pyjamas. "Peachy."

Theo frowned. "Did you, uh, have a good time at the ball?"

"It was fine."

"Blaise? What's wrong?"

"I saw you kiss her," Blaise said. "I… didn't like it. I don't—" he shook his head. "It's fine. Ignore me."

Theo stepped closer. "She kissed me, and… I didn't like it either. She wasn't who I wanted to kiss."

"Yeah?"

Theo moved closer still and pressed slightly chapped lips to Blaises'. "Yeah."

…

**1995**.

"That's… festive," Blaise said, frowning slightly.

"It's awful," Theo replied, his lips sitting in a natural pout that Blaise always wanted to kiss away. "But Draco is a tosspot who takes winning bets very seriously."

Blaise snorted but nodded sympathetically because everyone in their dorm had been on the losing end of at least one of Draco's bets.

Theo dropped onto the sofa beside Blaise and snuggled into his side, burrowing his face into Blaise's—not at all festive—jumper.

"You're still gorgeous, baby," Blaise assured him quietly, pressing a kiss to Theo's temple. "Merry Christmas."

"Hmph."

…

1996.

"My father, he—"

"I know, Theo."

"I don't want to," Theo admitted. "But I think… I think maybe I'm not going to have a choice if I want to keep breathing."

Blaise closed his eyes and turned his head into Theo's stomach. Theo's hand continued to stroke through his hair.

"It's Christmas," Blaise said eventually. "Can we just… forget about it for a while. Just… until it's not Christmas."

Theo softened. "Sure babe. Chess?"

"Chess."

…

1997.

They walked in formation with the rest of the Slytherins. Theo almost thought that going home would have been better than this, but Blaise shifted slightly and gripped Theo's hand and he knew that it wouldn't have been.

Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts anymore, but Blaise was still here, and wherever Blaise was meant Theo _was _home.

They saw at the table in silence as they ate, the Carrows eyes drifting over the hall. It wasn't the best Christmas, but it wasn't the worst.

Later that night, they curled up together in Blaise's bed. They were still silent, but it was comfortable now instead of oppressive like in the hall.

"Are you okay?" Blaise asked. Theo could see the dark mark peaking out beneath his sleeve and he pulled it down. He'd never let Blaise touch it; he didn't want Blaise to be tainted by it.

"I'm with you, of course I'm okay."

"I love you," Blaise murmured.

"I love you too."

…

1998.

"Merry Christmas, babe," Blaise murmured, his hand resting on the solid marble of the gravestone. "I love you."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - TheoBlaise

365 - 103. Festive

1000 - 674. No femslash pairings


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 512

* * *

**A Quick Fumble **

* * *

It was a quick fumble in the common room that started it. He'd been drinking and she was lonely and it was nice to just… not be so alone for a moment.

Pansy hadn't meant for it to become a thing.

She really hadn't. Except it did, and now she was splayed out on the black leather of the common room sofa, with him lying above her, his legs between hers, his breath hot and damp against her neck.

He didn't acknowledge her in the daytime, when they passed each other in the corridors. Too cool for that, she supposed. She was younger then him, popular only because of her association with Draco, and certainly not as pretty as the girls he cat-called after while with his friends.

Tracey and Daphne both said that it should bother her, the way he was using her, but it didn't. She was to be married when she left school, to whomever her parents chose for her, so what did it matter if she had a little fun before that.

As long as he left her virginity intact for her future husband, nobody needed to know.

…

He didn't acknowledge her outside of the nights he found her alone in the common room. He thought that probably made him a bad person, but it didn't make him change his ways.

Marcus was relatively sure that she knew that he couldn't make her any promises. He certainly wouldn't be able to date her publically—his parent's already had his bride picked out.

And she enjoyed it. He always made sure of that, he was attentive to her needs as well as his own and he never left her wanting.

He couldn't penetrate her, but the other things he could do… he could do them well. And the way he saw it, it was good practice, for when he was married.

He didn't know why he'd chosen her, perhaps it was simply a coincidence that it had been her that night when he'd been drinking, or perhaps there really was something about her that caught his attention.

He didn't know. He did know that until he left school in the summer, he'd continue to seek her out.

No matter what had started it, he couldn't stop himself now, and he didn't even want to try.

…

Shamed and ignored, Pansy sat in the gallery as her parents were charged for their crimes under You-Know-Who's name.

Marcus slid in beside her, and after a brief hesitation, let his hand rest on her thigh. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, and a tear fell. "No. No, I'm really not."

He squeezed her leg. "You're not alone."

"What about your wife?" Pansy asked, and Marcus shook his head.

"I couldn't do it. You're not alone, Pans. Not anymore. Not ever."

Her life was still in shambles, and she didn't know how she was ever going to pull herself back together, but when Marcus looked at her the way he was, she thought that maybe it would be okay.

She wasn't alone.

* * *

**Written for;**

Auction - Setting - House Common Room

365 - 108. Fumble

1000 - 695. No Muggleborns


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 405

**Warning** \- Smut and Adultery

* * *

**A Little Bit More In Love **

* * *

"I need you as much as I need them," Lily murmurs, her hand sliding through your hair.

It's strange, because she isn't usually a selfish woman. What she's asking of you is selfish though. It's wrong and you shouldn't give into her, but you can't help it because you _love her. _

She's beautiful and strong and clever. Her skin is so soft under yours when you touch her and you crave her constantly.

It's like an ache. A physical ache, every moment you're not touching her.

"Alice, please," she whispers, and you cave, the same way you always do when she begs you like that.

It's the first time you've been alone with her since you had Neville, since she had Harry.

A girls night, you told Frank.

A girls night, she told James.

It's wrong but you can't stop yourself. Her figure is still perfect, and you cringe a little when she touches your stomach, because you didn't snap back into shape the way she did. She smiles at you, and says, "You're still perfect," and you fall a little bit more in love with her.

She's your opposite in many ways.

She's level headed, and you've always been whimsical. She's cautious, while you're searching for adventure—or you had been in your youth, before the war picked up and you became a mother. She's perceptive, and you walk around with your head in the clouds.

It shouldn't work between you, and yet it does, because you love her and she loves you.

Her trailing fingertips make you gasp with pleasure, and you surrender to her touch, to the weight of her body over yours and her lips on your skin. She makes you _feel _in a way no one else does, a way no one else can.

She makes you yearn for her, even when she's in reaching distance, you still want more of her.

It builds inside you, and you shake as her fingers get harder, her tongue greedier.

"Come on, baby, fall apart for me, let me see you," she whispers.

That's all you need to fall off the cliff edge of overwhelmed pleasure and you pant heavily as she works you gently through the aftermath. You cling to her when she moves back up your body to kiss you softly, the taste of you shared between your lips.

"I love you," she whispers. "So much, Alice."

"I love you too, Lily."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - LilyAlice

365 - 100. Whimsical

1000 - 268. "I need you as much as I need them."


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 480

* * *

**Not This One **

* * *

Ron sat in his seat on the front row, his sight blurry with tears that refused to fall. On one side of him sat Percy, on the other, Ginny. Hermione and Harry were directly behind him, and he could already hear Hermione sniffing delicately.

Part of him wanted to be back there with them, comforting her and clinging for comfort himself.

He couldn't though. He belonged on the front row with the rest of his family. For George. For Fred.

The eulogies were nice, the bits he heard of them. It didn't sound like they were describing Fred though, because Fred was a hellion and as likely to cause an explosion as he was to make you laugh. The people up there on the podium, they didn't know Fred. Not like he did.

Not like his family did.

Ron chanced a glance at George, and saw the narrowed eyes and red ears and he sighed. George was so angry—understandably so—and he didn't need these fools making him even more angry.

Ron reached around Percy and squeezed George's clenched fist. When George looked at him, Ron shook his head a little. George glared at him for a moment and then slumped a little, the anger leaving him.

George raging wasn't what their parents needed at the moment. Especially not _this _moment.

Fred was lowered into the ground, and the last words were spoken. The wake would be held at the Burrow, and George planned to set off some new fireworks that he and Fred had been working on before—

Just before.

"How are you holding up?" Hermione asked, when they were finally free to move from the graveside.

Ron shrugged and tugged her into his arms, pressing his face into her neck for a long moment. Just the scent of her perfume was enough to comfort him a little. When he pulled back, it was to see Ginny doing the same thing with Harry.

Ron smiled at his best friend. He'd been worried about Ginny, but he knew Harry would look after her.

"I hate funerals," he whispered into Hermione's skin.

"I know, me too," she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

They'd been to so many of them over the last two weeks… Ron swore that he wouldn't wear black again for the next year.

"I guess… I guess I thought I'd be numb to them now," he admitted, as he pulled away from her a little, still keeping her in his arms but with enough distance so he could see her face.

Hermione smiled sadly. "Not this one."

He nodded. "I know. Not this one."

The other funerals had been sad, of course they had but… this was his brother. His big brother that picked on him and picked him up in equal measure. Fresh tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them away.

"Not this one."

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Ron Weasley

365 - 93. Explosion

1000 - 149. A funeral


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1408

* * *

**Little Lion **

* * *

The meeting hall was already packed when Severus arrived, but the Dark Lord hadn't arrived yet, for which he was ever thankful for. He'd almost expected to be late, after Dumbledore's waffling waylaid his departure.

There was a curious excitement in the air, and Severus wondered what was going on. It didn't bode well for him when he missed things that caused this kind of reaction.

He found his space in the middle of the pack and stood with his hands folded behind his back, waiting.

Within minutes, the Death Eaters were falling silent as the Dark Lord stepped into the room, his red eyes moving over them slowly.

Severus twitched minutely when they stopped on him, not letting himself breathe an audible sigh of relief when they moved on.

"My loyal followers, tonight I invite you to greet the newest member to our ranks. He is special, very special, and you would do to gain his favour, as he has mine."

Severus blinked, grateful for the mask that blocked his face. The Dark Lord never spoke of his servants in such a way and it was strange to hear such words in the familiar lisping tones.

What was so special about this new Death Eater that made them able to jump the ranks without going through the rigorous missions that the rest of them faced?

"Come, join us," he hissed, and a new figure entered the room. Severus frowned. The man—woman?—person seemed to practically float on air with the grace that they moved. They were wearing a different mask to the others, gold, instead of the usual silver and the draping robes the person wore were gold trimmed with the finest looking thread.

"Take off your mask, let them see you," the Dark Lord prompted, and after a full minute, during which the Death Eaters seemed to hold their breath in sync, the gold mask was removed.

An audible gasp moved through the hall, and Severus knew his own was amongst the crowd.

Messy black hair, glowing green eyes, and a tell tale lightning bolt on his forehead, Harry Potter stood side by side with the Dark Lord and _smiled. _

Severus' brain seemed to stall as he stared at the two of them. For so long, Potter had fought against the Dark Lord, only to stand proudly by his side now, his eyes gleaming with _something _that Severus was scared to identify.

"You must all be wondering why he's here," the Dark Lord said, his amusement evident as he looked at his followers. "When, just months ago, we were battling one another on the site of my rebirth."

There were nods around the hall.

"Albus Dumbledore, is a scheming, manipulative bastard," Potter said quietly. "He used me to his own ends, lied to me, and led me to believe things that were not true. He taught me good and evil, with himself on the winning side. He was wrong."

"How do we know we can trust him, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, her tone nervous and forced, but still strong. She was the only one of them that had the guts to question their Lord at all.

"You think he's duped me, Bella?" the Dark Lord asked. "You think he's come to me and been so convincing as to lie to _me_?"

"No, My Lord," Bella whimpered. "But, if Dumbledore were to—"

"Enough," the Dark Lord snapped.

Potter put a hand out and laid it on his arm, a calming gesture to many, but once more the collective Death Eater's held their breath, waiting for him to be cursed in reprimand.

A curse that never came.

"It's understandable that she, that _they_, do not trust me," Potter said softly. "In their position, I wouldn't trust me either."

The Dark Lord stared at him for a long moment before he nodded once. "Very well."

He turned back to the crowd. "Let us say, that he demonstrated his evidence to me very well and I trust him unreservedly. I expect the same from the rest of you."

There was a low murmur of assent from the crowd.

Severus could only stare at the two of them. They seemed to be communicating with only their eyes. Suddenly, green eyes flashed over the crowd and landed on Severus. The eyes narrowed minutely, and then Potter smiled.

Properly smiled.

Severus couldn't deny the shiver than traced down his back. It was… slightly terrifying, for this Potter to be smiling so.

He murmured something too quiet to be heard by anyone except the Dark Lord, and when the red eyes flicked his way and then back to Potter, Severus could practically foresee his own doom.

The daft old coot had practically announced Severus as a spy to Potter in the hospital wing only months before. No matter that Severus had chosen no side but his own, Potter would surely believe him to be Dumbledore's man.

The Dark Lord spoke with a few of the Death Eaters about their latest missions, but Severus couldn't take his eyes off of Potter. He was watching them all with a calculating look on his face, and Severus was confused by the coldness there.

The Potter he knew was a dramatic little ball of fluff that kept getting stood on. It was an oddity.

Eventually, the Dark Lord called the meeting to an end. Severus was about to join the throng leaving when he heard his name called. He turned and saw both red and green eyes on him.

"Stay behind," the Dark Lord ordered.

Severus' heart sank into his feet, but he dropped back against the wall and waited for the room to empty.

"My lord?"

"Severus, Harry brings me troubling news. He speaks of your spying on me, on the utter belief the old fool has in you. It makes me question your loyalty, Severus. To whom are you loyal, my little spy?"

"My loyalty is with you, My Lord," Severus replied quietly.

"Lie," Potter whispered, his lips tilting slightly. "But also not entirely false. I believe, Tom, that Severus here is loyal to none but his own self. He's perfectly positioned to be on the winning side, as it were, whichever side that may be."

"I believe, my little lion, that the winning side is the side that has you, is it not?"

The tilt of Potter's lips grew until it was a full smirk. "True," he replied simply.

Severus was still reeling that Potter was still alive after calling the Dark Lord _Tom._

"I believe… a compromise, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed then, his eyes alight with glee. "An oath of fealty, if you will."

"Whatever you require, My Lord," Severus replied. He could see no way out of this and honestly, without Potter, the light were fucked anyway, so he might as well throw his lot fully in with the dark.

It was where he felt he belonged the most.

"Oh, not to me, Severus. Harry, you know the spell, correct."

Potter nodded, his eyes gleaming as he met Severus' own obsidian gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment before Severus nodded.

He still wasn't sure what it was about Potter, but there was something different. Something… powerful. He didn't know what it was, but as Potter intoned the spell that would bind Severus to him irrefutably, Severus wondered if it wasn't perhaps, the best thing for him.

With the sheer power circling Potter… he'd be a fool to not understand the protection that offered.

"This will be our little secret, won't it Severus?" Potter asked, though Severus knew it wasn't a question.

"Yes… my lord."

There was no deception this time. Severus knew that it would be suicide to alert Dumbledore to this particular update.

"No need for that, Severus," Potter murmured. "Harry is fine. And your behaviour must remain the same in school.

Severus took a deep breath and then nodded. "Of course, Harry. Whatever is required of me."

Harry nodded, and then smiled up at Tom. "You promised to show me the fire manipulation, Tom. Shall we?"

"Of course, Little Lion. Lead the way. Severus, return to the school. If Albus is to gain knowledge of this before we wish it, know that you will not live to see the end of the day."

Severus nodded. Whilst fealty to a Potter was enough to make his teeth clench, loyalty to Harry… he suspected it wouldn't be so difficult.

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - Harry becomes a Death Eater because Dumbledore is actually evil

365 - 87. Float

1000 - 58. Severus Snape


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom **

**Word Count** \- 718

* * *

**A Brighter Outlook **

* * *

The ball was to start soon. Severus huffed to himself as he arranged his cravat and waistcoat just so. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the ball, particularly when his mother, Queen Eileen of Hogsmeade, was expecting him to choose his bride.

She'd invited all the eligible ladies in the surrounding kingdoms—even though he'd vehemently protested the inclusion of those from Gryffindor. He'd had dealings in the past with the inhabitants of the Gryffindor kingdom, and he had no wish to entertain the thought of _marrying _one of them.

Checking himself in the mirror a final time, Severus sighed and then straightened his back. A prince never slouched after all—at least not in the view of anyone of lesser standing.

The royal ball's were always successful, and this one seemed to be no different. There was a lack of males present, but given the cause for the ball, it was somewhat understandable. Still, Lucius was holding court in the middle of the room with many of their shared acquaintances, and Severus immediately made a beeline for his long-time friend.

"Ah, Severus," Lucius greeted, a smile stretching his thin lips. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Just fine, Lucius. Yourself?"

"I am simply marvellous. You've met my Lady Narcissa?" he asked, guiding his fiance forwards with the arm around her waist.

Severus kissed her hand and bowed slightly to her, murmuring her name in greeting. "You look radiant as always."

"Severus dear, come and meet Lady Bones from the Ravenclaw Kingdom, won't you," his mother said, appearing at his elbow.

Exchanging a forlorn look with Lucius, who's eyes twinkled gleefully, Severus nodded. "Of course, Mother."

So followed a stream of women, each clamouring for a dance and the chance to charm him. It was _exhausting. _

Eventually, he escaped his mother's watchful eye and retreated to one of the corners of the room. Unfortunately, the corner was already occupied.

"Oh. Excuse me, Miss, I didn't expect anyone to be sitting over here."

He moved to step back, but then startled, the young lady looked up and he was suddenly gazing on the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"Sorry," the lady whispered. "I uh, I'm not…" she gestured down to the book in her lap. "I guess I'm not very good at social situations. I… my mother made me come. Sorry."

"There's no need for apologies," Severus said, voice soft. "What are you reading?"

She flipped the cover for him to see, and what followed was one of the most interesting and compelling conversations Severus had ever taken part in.

"What is your name, Miss?"

She blushed, her cheeks colouring lightly. "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"It's been a pleasure, Miss Granger."

…

"Did you find anyone you'd like to pursue, Son?" Eileen asked, the following morning as they sat down to breakfast.

Severus nodded, a small smile on face. "Hermione Granger."

Eileen looked quickly through the list of attendees. "Hmm, of the Gryffindor Kingdom. You surprise me, Son. I expected you to choose one of the ladies of Slytherin, or perhaps Ravenclaw."

His good mood threatening to evaporate, Severus pictured Hermione in his mind. Gryffindor… possibly the last kingdom he would have expected from her, and yet…

"She is my choice, Mother."

Eileen nodded. "Very well. I'll have the horse and carriage prepared. You will leave after breakfast."

…

The street wasn't as obnoxious as some in the kingdom, Severus thought to himself, as they pulled outside a modest but nice house.

The door opened, and there she stood, just a step behind her parents. She had her hand over her mouth, and her mother was already tearing up.

"Miss Granger," Severus said, stepping down from the cart. "Of all the ladies that came to the ball, you were the only one to capture my interest. Would you do me the honour of allowing my courtship?"

Hermione stepped between her parents and looked at Severus' waiting hand. After seconds that felt like hours, she put her hand into his, and allowed him to kiss the delicate skin on the back it.

"I'd like that," she murmured sweetly.

Severus nodded, and stood, turning to greet her parent's as was proper.

He was most excited about the future, which, before he'd stumbled on the bright young lady, had been looking rather bleak.

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - Royalty!au

365 - 98. Royal

1000 - 303. SeverusHermione


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 349

_Warning - non-con by way of imperius, and generally creepy behaviour. _

* * *

**Stolen Moments **

* * *

He first saw the redhead while he was spying on his father. It was by chance really, he hadn't even planned to stay as long as he had, so when he did and then he saw the beautiful man gesturing enthusiastically, his hands waving in front of him.

Barty's father looked _bored. _Barty was very familiar with the expression, and seeing it aimed at this gorgeous man made Barty's blood boil.

From that night on, in the times when he wasn't busy doing work for his master, Barty followed the red head. He learned that his name was Percy, that he worked for his father, and that he was a Weasley.

At any other time, the latter thing would be enough to make Barty want to AK him on the spot, but there was just _something _about him.

Something about Percy that made Barty _want_.

He wondered, albeit briefly, if he could convince Percy to join the Dark Lord's revolution but quickly batted the idea away. He was a Weasley, which meant he was lighter than light by default, and Barty knew he had no chance.

But he wasn't above playing dirty to get what he wanted.

He fell to Barty's wand stunningly, immediately pliant under the curse Barty himself had been kept under for years.

There was a… stirring of unease about what he was doing, but he brushed it away easily enough. It wasn't like he was forcing Percy into illegal activities or hurting him.

In fact it was the opposite. He made Percy feel _good. _He drew bountiful moans and whimpers and shivers from the red haired man, until he was a sated mess laid out on Barty's sheets.

It was the most heavenly of prizes.

He knew, eventually, he would have to stop. Knew that eventually, Percy would fight the curse and try to run, just as Barty himself had. Barty knew that, _eventually_, he would have to take the man's life like he'd taken his free will.

But for now… for now he'd enjoy the stolen moments for they were all he really had.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - PercyBartyJr

365 - 92. Revolution


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 416

* * *

**Stories Untold **

* * *

She was unique.

That was probably what he liked about her. She had ways to draw him out of his own head, seemingly without effort.

Ron hadn't believed him when he'd explained that he was dating Luna, but Percy had simply smiled at his youngest brother's disbelief. He understood it, of course he did, how could he not? When had Percy ever seemed open to the unusual or unbelievable?

He was as straightlaced as it was possible to be—he thought that was maybe why they worked as well as they did. Luna opened up his life to more than work.

She'd made him open his heart too, without even trying.

Luna was easy to love.

She was beautiful, almost ethereal in some ways. The way the sun glinted off her silvery blonde hair was distracting, the way her eyes glowed burned into his very soul, and the way her words created poetry even as she talked about the most mundane things imaginable sung to him.

He adored her.

Percy didn't know what he'd done to attract her, and he didn't know what he was doing to make her stay, but he could only hope and pray that he'd never lose whatever quality it was that drew her to him.

Of anything he could lose in his life, she was the one thing he hoped he never did.

He could be destitute and homeless, and as long as she remained at his side, he knew he'd still find reasons to smile every day.

He sat beside her on the grass outside of the home they shared. She was splayed out on her back, in the classic snow angel pose, though there was no snow. Not that she needed it to be an angel.

"What are you doing?" he asked, brushing a stray hair from her face.

"Watching the stories unfold in the clouds," she replied. "Watch with me?"

As if he could refuse her, when she smiled so prettily. He lay down beside her, heart pumping joyously when she curled into him immediately.

He couldn't see the stories that she saw, so she pointed out the shapes, and he squinted until he could almost see what she saw. When he admitted as much, Luna smiled brightly, and in soft, soothing tones, she spoke the stories she saw aloud for him.

"I love you," he murmured in the evening air, when the clouds had long faded and the grass around them began to dampen.

"I love you too."

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - LunaPercy

365 - 128. Unique


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom **

**Word Count** \- 444

* * *

**Time For Me And You **

* * *

"Ow! Why would you do that to me? That was mean, dammit!"

Kingsley chuckled. "I don't understand how you've never had acid pops. How many times did you go to Honeydukes while you were at Hogwarts?"

Harry grimaced. "I got told what they did and avoided them on purpose, you jerk!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Kingsley murmured, shifting across the pastel blue picnic blanket. "Let me kiss it better?"

Harry twitched his nose. "Maybe hold the kissing until I don't have a hole in my tongue?"

Snorting, Kingsley collapsed back on the blanket, pulling Harry down beside him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Harry replied quietly, nuzzling his face against Kingsley neck. "Even when you burn holes in my tongue."

"I'm going to regret that, aren't I?" Kingsley asked, amused, as he ran a hand through Harry's hair.

"Probably. But if you keep stroking my hair like that, I'm more likely to forgive you."

"You're like a kitten," Kingsley snorted, turning on his side and pulling Harry even closer. "Hmm, this was a good idea though. It's nice to just… be."

Harry nodded against his chest. They were both busy, Kingsley as the Minister and Harry as the head of the Aurors, but he was glad that they could still take an afternoon out like this occasionally.

They lay quietly for a while, Harry dozing against Kingsley's broad chest, until laughter in the distance caught their attention. Harry rolled onto his stomach, his elbows on the blanket so he could prop his head on his hands.

Across the field, a group of children were playing with a dog that looked exactly like Padfoot. The sight made Harry smile, even as a spasm of pain shot across his chest.

"We should get a dog," Kingsley said, watching the kids playing.

Harry frowned and looked up at his husband. "We don't have the time for a dog, it wouldn't be fair."

Kingsley's lips tilted up slightly. "I uh, I think I'm going to retire at the next election actually. It's… I enjoyed being Minister but… I think I'm ready to relax a little more."

Harry's eyes widened a little. "Yeah?"

Kingsley nodded.

Harry leant to the side and pressed a kiss to Kingsley's lips. "That sounds good."

It was still a few months away, but the promise of more time for them to be _them_.

Kingsley grinned and reached into the basket, pulling out a chocolate dipped strawberry. He held it to Harry's lips, grin widening when Harry eyed it suspiciously.

"It's just strawberry and chocolate, I promise."

Harry took a bite and hummed appreciatively. He could certainly get used to this more often.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Acid Pops

365 - Pastel


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 394

* * *

**Together **

* * *

Molly bustled around the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Her eyes were rimmed red, her lips were downturned, and her clothes were hanging off of her, and she still worked on.

Arthur could do little more than admire his wife for that. Too many times over the last week, he'd given into the need to curl up in a ball and cry, to just take a moment to grieve for the life of their son, taken far too soon.

Molly hadn't done such.

She'd been a whirlwind of action since the battle, looking after Arthur, looking after their children. He'd tried to convince her to take a moment for herself and yet, she hadn't.

She'd patted his cheek and carried on.

Before they'd gotten married, many told him that Molly was a dominant force of nature, that she'd walk all over him. He'd known the real truth then, and he knew it now.

It wasn't that Molly was controlling, it was that she cared. She cared so hard, and so much, that she couldn't bring herself to stop, even when she had every right to curl up in a ball and ignore the world turning for a while.

He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her to a halt.

"Molly, stop," he whispered.

"I can't," she replied, and the words were choked and broken. "If I stop, I'll never be able to start again."

Arthur sighed, and held her tighter. "I won't let you stop for long," he promised. "I'll be here to hold you up. Just… take a moment please."

The first tears slid down her cheeks, and all at once, she pressed against him, sobbing into his neck. Arthur held her tight.

He didn't say it would be alright because it would never be alright ever again. They'd lost their son. But he did tell her that together, they would make it through.

That was how it had been since they were fifteen after all, and it was how it would be until they died themselves.

He knew that he would have to watch her, knew that he would have to pull her to a stop again, because left to her own devices, she never would.

But that was okay. As she looked after him, he'd take care of her.

As they always had. As they always would.

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - Arthur Weasley

365 - 107. Dominant


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 356

* * *

**Who Needs A Brain Anyway? **

* * *

"Well, she's clearly an idiot," Oliver said, patting Percy on the arm. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Percy sighed. "Sure thing, Oli."

He didn't sound convinced. Oliver ran a hand over his face. Rejection was never fun, but Percy always took it even more personally than most. It was hard to see his best friend so down, especially over a woman when Oliver—nope, not going there.

"Come on, you said you wanted to go to that museum in the morning, so the last thing you wanna do tonight is get drunk."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that's the first thing I wanna do," Percy muttered. "I'm not going to the museum, there's no point going by myself, is there?"

"Uh. I'll go with you," Oliver offered, inwardly cursing himself even as the words left his lips. Museums were not his idea of a fun time, and Percy tended to get excited about the obscure artefacts and lingered over them _forever _and— But now Percy was smiling at him and maybe it was worth it.

"Really? You hate museums."

"We can make a day of it? Museum in the morning, lunch, maybe do a bit of shopping or something in the afternoon. Or a movie?"

"You don't have to do this," Percy murmured. "I'll be fine."

"Hey, what are friends for, right?" Oliver replied.

…

He was regretting every life choice that led him here. His brain had melted out of his ear about two hours ago, and Percy was still bouncing from one artifact to the next, lapping up the useless information about them and spewing them back out to Oliver.

Like he cared about a staff used by some Egyptian wizarding dude from the 1500's.

Eventually, Percy was done with his enthusiastic learning, and he allowed Oliver to pull him to the closest restaurant.

"I, uh. Thank you, for today," he said softly, blushing over the menu that covered half of his face from view.

Oliver softened, because no matter his opinions on Percy's obliviousness to what was _right in front of him, _they were best friends before anything else, and if his brain melting made Percy happy… well, he didn't need his brain that much anyway, right?

Right.

"Anytime, Perce."

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - Gaston from Beauty and the Beast (cheering someone up after a rejection)

365 - 96. Obscure


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 325

* * *

**Worth It **

* * *

Growing up at Seamus' side had been Dean's honour. They'd laughed together, cried together, argued and fought together.

He'd seen the looks Seamus had given him as they'd aged but he'd always waved it off as his own imagination.

Seamus couldn't like him, not like that. Seamus was so handsome and good and bright and Dean… Dean was just Dean. He was nothing special.

But Seamus looked at him like he was everything.

…

"You think I want to leave?" Dean demanded, while Seamus scowled at him. "I don't have a choice, Shay! They're hunting muggleborns."

"But… you might not be," Seamus replied.

"I can't prove that. I have to go. Just… look after yourself, okay? And for Merlin's sake, watch your tongue with the new professors. You know they're going to be looking for a reason to punish you, and I have a feeling they won't be just giving out detentions."

"You too," Seamus said finally. "Just… don't die, okay?"

"That's the plan," Dean agreed.

…

Seamus shouted out for him, and they ran to one another, a reunion long awaited. It wasn't long, that moment in Seamus' arms, but it was perfect.

"You look shit," Dean said, taking in the many cuts and bruises. "And sadly, you're still the best thing I've seen in a year."

"I missed you."

They fought side by side, back to back. They cause protection charms for one another, and shot spells over shoulders in the nick of time.

It was perfect.

And then it wasn't.

Dean was too late.

…

Dean wore a red shirt to the funeral. He got some strange looks, but he could practically hear an echo of Seamus' laughter in his ears.

He'd never had chance to find out if those looks were his imagination or not, but he couldn't regret the years he'd spent at Seamus' side.

Even for the pain he carried with him daily; it had all been worth it.

* * *

**Written for: **

Auction - Dean Thomas

365 - 131. Handsome


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Auction Prompt - D5/2. Charlie Weasley **

**Word Count** \- 400

* * *

**Cold Snap **

* * *

He knew she was disappointed in him, and he couldn't deny that it hurt. Charlie had never wanted to disappoint his mum like this but… it was right.

He knew it was, had known it since the offer was first given.

It was everything he'd wanted since he'd first gotten his hands on a book about dragons when he was five years old. To go to Romania, to _work _with them, it was everything.

The bang of pans in the kitchen below made Charlie wince. His father had told him to make himself scarce for a little while so he could try and calm Molly down, but Charlie wasn't sure if it would do any good.

His mother was as fiery as the dragons he was leaving to work with when she was annoyed after all.

…

He'd been wrong. His mother hadn't been fiery; she'd been colder than a harsh winter in Antarctica.

She'd frozen him out to the point where she even ignored his presence at the dinner table when they all sat down to discuss their days.

Bill tried to comfort him, and his father said to just 'give her time' but how much time was he supposed to give her? He was leaving in a week.

When he settled into bed that night, he sighed quietly. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he didn't want to leave feeling like his mum hated him.

…

His bags were packed and he was about to leave. His father hugged him and gave firm instructions for him to fire-call home at least once a week.

Bill slapped him on the back and told him to have fun, but _be careful. _His mum stood to the side, stony faced and refusing to look at him.

"Mum?" Charlie said, stepping forwards. "Mum, please."

She met his eyes and he wasn't surprised to see them shining with tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, his shirt quickly dampening with her tears.

"I love you, Mum," he murmured. "I'll stay safe and call home often, I promise."

She nodded. "I love you, Charlie. Please, please be careful. And I expect you home for Christmas, okay?"

"I can do that."

When they separated, Charlie felt the weight lifting from his shoulders, even as he hefted his bag up.

He was so ready.


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Auction Prompt - 29/4. Grimmauld Place **

**Word Count **\- 313

* * *

**Be Careful What You Wish For **

* * *

He hated being back here. So many memories lived in the walls of Grimmauld Place, and while many of them were unhappy, Sirius was struggling more with the few happy times he remembered.

Times when he and Regulus had still been young enough to not have ridiculous family drama coming between them.

When Sirius was the first one that Regulus would come to with a nightmare, when he'd crawl into Sirius' bed and huddle close, trusting in his older brother to keep him safe.

When they'd play for hours together in the library. When they'd each sit in front of the fire, and their father would read them a story from one of the family diaries. Grim tales, but the rare time with Orion had been enough of a gift that it didn't matter.

Christmas Eve's spent babbling excitedly to one another, eager for the morning when expensive gifts would be awaiting them under the tree. Even though Sirius often didn't get what he truly wanted, opening presents was still fun.

It was those memories that Sirius drank to forget, the endless bottles of firewhiskey bringing a numbness that Sirius sorely needed.

He tried to hide it for a while, but he knew he was doing a shit job of it. Remus would watch him with worry clouding his amber eyes, Molly would frown disapprovingly at him, and Kingsley would look at him with just a touch too much understanding.

Even the short time that Harry was there didn't do enough to quell the dark mood haunting Sirius' every moment in _that _house.

He craved the fresh air, the freedom. Every single day he'd spent on the run, he'd wanted nothing more than a roof over his head and a warm bed to lay his head in.

Just goes to show that you really do need to be careful what you wish for.


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Auction Prompt -D29/2. Kingsley Shacklebolt **

**Word Count** \- 427

* * *

**Late Night Traditions **

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Harry looked up, and Kingsley saw his green eyes were rimmed red, a letter clutched in his fist. "My, uh. My aunt died. This is off my cousin, Dudley."

Kingsley sat down on the step beside Harry. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He knew Harry and his muggle relatives hadn't always had the best of relationships, but they'd raised him, however reluctantly, and it was no surprise it had hit the young man. He'd seen so much loss in his years, and he was only twenty seven.

"You can take the day off, you know? Bereavement time is allowable, especially since it's someone that raised you."

Harry shook his head. "It's… I'll be okay. It was just a shock. I, uh. Well, I didn't even know she was ill, so it kinda came out of nowhere, you know?"

Kingsley nodded. "Well, if you need to take a few days, just let me know, okay?"

…

"Harry?"

"I just… couldn't sit at home," Harry said, wiping his hand over his face. The funeral had been that morning and it had been… tough. Seeing Dudley had been nice but just standing there, he'd felt like the worst kind of hypocrite.

He'd never liked his aunt, and to be around people that did; it wasn't a good feeling.

The last thing he'd wanted when it was over was to return to his flat and ruminate alone. He'd done enough of that after the war to know it wasn't a path he needed to return to.

"Why don't you come and get a late dinner with me?" Kingsley offered. "I've looked at far too many files today, I didn't have chance to eat."

Harry snorted and looked at his own pile of files. Dinner with Kingsley sounded like a much better alternative. He nodded. "I. Yeah. Thanks."

…

It turned into something of a thing for the two of them. After a rough day, they'd seek the other out and go and eat together, talking about everything and nothing until the early hours of the morning.

Kingsley… while he'd always liked Harry, he'd never really known him. His admiration for the Auror only grew with every one of their meetings.

When, four months after his Aunt's funeral, Harry kissed him, Kingsley didn't hesitate to return it in kind, holding Harry close with a gentle hand on his waist.

"Yeah?" Harry asked shyly, pulling back a little.

The blush on his cheeks was the most enticing thing Kingsley had seen in a long time and he smiled slightly.

"Absolutely."


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Auction Prompt - D30/2. Buried Alive **

**Word Count** \- 411

**Warning** \- Fairly graphic description of murder.

* * *

**Guilt **

* * *

The scream was piercing and Regulus only just stopped himself from covering his ears to block it a little. He wanted to silence the muggle, but his Lord was standing close by and Regulus had already been schooled about his likes.

He liked to hear them scream.

Regulus didn't, but then, according to Bellatrix, he was a delicate little flower. She hadn't meant it in a nice way either, since her words had been followed with a warning for him to quickly develop a thicker skin before the Dark Lord realised just how weak he really was.

Nobody knew that he still couldn't cast a functional killing curse either.

When he'd been called forwards and told to 'entertain' the master, he'd swallowed hard. He was infinitely grateful when the order was followed with a second; to be creative. At least his Lord was expecting something different than the Avada Kedavra.

He thought quickly and conjured a large clear tank, dropping the muggle unceremoniously inside.

The screaming had started then and it _hadn't stopped. _Regulus cast four egg timers to the four corners, and created holes, so that sand slowly began to fill the tank. Feeling sick, he conjured a few animals to scare the muggle more, sand snakes, large crabs and nasty looking beetles to name a few.

"Interesting," he heard someone behind him murder.

Regulus could only hope that 'interesting' was a good thing, because he didn't dare look at the Dark Lord for any signs of approval. Instead, he spelled the sand to flow faster and watched as slowly, the muggle was covered, buried alive in the sand.

At least it made the screaming stop.

Eventually the tank was filled, and Regulus ended his magic, leaving the muggle's tomb in the middle of the room. He knelt at his Lord's feet, praying that he'd done enough to spare him the cruel pain of Crucio at the end of his master's wand.

"Creative," the Dark Lord hissed. "Well done, Regulus"

He didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until he was an anonymous mask in a sea of identical ones.

He didn't dare let himself vomit until he was in his own home, protected from the judgement and jeering of his fellow Death Eaters.

When he climbed into his bed, it was with tear streaks still on his cheeks and a heart so heavy he was struggling to breathe.

He still had his life, but it wasn't worth the guilt.


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Auction Prompt - D29/3. DeanPiers **

**Word Count** \- 455

_(Borrowed an OC, Max. He belongs to either Lo or Amber, I don't remember, so full credit for his existence to them) _

* * *

**Cookies **

* * *

"I love you," Dean murmured, nuzzling his face against Piers' neck.

Piers swatted at him with the tea towel in his hand. "I love you too. You're still not getting anywhere near these cookies."

"But… I want them," Dean replied, puppy eyes in full force.

Piers sighed. He tried to be strong, he really did but he just… couldn't fight against the puppy eyes. They were lethal_. _

"_You_ are a _menace_," he grumbled, passing Dean one of the still hot cookies. "Get out, you're barred from the kitchen.

Dean grinned and pressed a kiss to Piers' shoulder. "Thank you!"

Piers finished the cookies he'd been icing while the fresh batch cooled. He didn't understand why he'd been nominated to make the cookies when his uncle was a literal _baker, _but there wasn't much Piers wouldn't do for Max.

…

"These look great," Max said, peering into the box with a wide smile.

"Uh huh. You're lucky they survived the bottomless pit that I live with," Piers replied with a sniff, glaring at Dean.

Dean just shrugged and grinned. "You shouldn't make them so tasty and then I wouldn't want to eat them all. Your fault."

"Uh huh. You're gonna get fat if you keep stealing cookies."

"As if you'd stop loving me just because I got fat," Dean scoffed, kissing Piers' cheek. "It would just mean more of me to cuddle."

Piers frowned and then nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. Carry on eating."

Max chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "You guys ready for the summer fair?"

Sighing Piers nodded. "I baked the cookies," he complained. "I don't understand why I've gotta stick around to sell them too."

"'Cause you love me," Max commented playfully. "And you've only gotta stick around for the first hour or so, then I'll release you to go and do… whatever it is the two of you do on the weekends."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Bold of you to assume we'd actually leave. Ignore his grumbling, he loves it, being around all the kids."

Max nodded. "I know."

…

"Today was a good day, huh?"

Dean nodded, stroking a hand through Piers' hair. "Yeah, it was fun. Exhausting, but fun."

Piers chuckled then sobered a little. "Do you ever think about it? Having kids?"

"Adoption?"

"Yeah."

"I've been waiting for you to bring it up for about three months," Dean admitted. "I know you, don't forget."

"So… what do you think?"

"I think you were made to be a dad," Dean replied. "I'd love kids, Piers. Especially if I got to raise them with you."

Piers twisted himself to press a slightly desperate kiss against Dean's lips. "I really fucking love you, you know."

Dean smiled. "I know. I love you too, babe."


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Pairing** \- HarryKingsley

**Word Count** \- 494

_Written for the pairing the character challenge, on HPFC (it's been a minute!) _

* * *

**The Reality Of It **

* * *

"You did everything you could," Kingsley said softly, running a hand through Harry's soft, dark hair.

Harry sighed. "Doesn't feel like it."

"We can't always save everyone, Harry. As hard as it is, sometimes, people are going to die before we can do anything."

"I… intellectually, I know that," Harry agreed. "I'm struggling with the reality of it."

Kingsley nodded and pulled his husband closer. As an Auror, Kingsley understood the pressures and the pain of losing someone. Harry being a healer made no real difference, in this, their professions were all too similar.

"I'm going to run you a bath, and when you're done, we'll cook together and stay home and snuggle, okay?"

Harry frowned, pulling away to look at Kingsley. "The Ministry ball is in three hours. You're the Minister, you can't—"

"You are more important," Kingsley interrupted gently. "They will manage without me for one night."

Harry shook his head. "I'll take a bath, and we can eat, but then we'll go to the ball. You need to at least show your face, Kings."

Kingsley opened his mouth to argue, even though he knew for a fact that Harry was indeed correct that he should really go for at least the beginning of the ball. He wrinkled his nose and then nodded.

"Okay. We'll come home early though, okay?"

Harry nodded and pushed up slightly to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Kingsley's mouth. "Okay."

…

True to his word, Kingsley tugged Harry towards the exit only an hour and a half after they arrived at the ball. When they arrived home, Kingsley didn't let go of Harry's hand, pulling him gently to the bedroom.

He stripped Harry slowly, pressing delicate kisses to each part of his body as it was revealed, until Harry was naked. Kingsley stripped himself off much faster, and they climbed into bed together.

Harry seemed to relax fully for the first time since he'd returned home from the hospital, and Kingsley held him tightly. When the first tear hit Kingsley shoulder, he simply cradled Harry close and let him cry out the frustration and pain from his lost patient.

"I love you," he murmured, into the jet black hair repeatedly. He didn't tell Harry it was okay, because it wasn't. Loss of life was never okay, and he knew that saying it would be a redundant sentiment that Harry didn't want. "I love you."

Finally, when the tears stopped falling, and Harry, red eyed and tired looked at him gratefully, Kingsley caressed his cheek, wiping away the remnants of wetness.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "I love you too."

If Kingsley held Harry a fraction tighter that night, if Harry woke up with fresh tears on his face in the middle of the night with his heart beating frantically in his chest, if Kingsley made love to Harry softer and gentler than usual the next morning, neither of them mentioned it.

They didn't need to.


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise**.

_Written for Rock Em Sock Em Robots, on HPFC. _

**Word Count** \- 540

* * *

**Why Am I Still Friends With You?**

* * *

"Please stop getting curses placed on you. This is getting ridiculous," Theo muttered, healing Draco carefully.

"You say that like I ask for them," Draco replied, wincing. "Thanks."

Theo nodded, sitting back in his seat. "You really should speak to one of the professors about this. It's the third time this month and we're not even halfway through the month yet."

Draco shrugged. "What can they do about it? It's not like they're around me every second of the day and you know that people are out for blood at the moment."

"Can Potter not do anything?"

"He, uh. I haven't told him about it."

"Why the hell not?" Theo asked, scowling. "It's his fault this is even happening!"

"It's really not," Draco denied. "He wanted to keep it under wraps until the end of the year, but… I demanded he prove he wasn't ashamed of me."

Theo closed his eyes. "Of course you did. You need to tell him, Dray. Maybe he can speak to some of them, make them see reason."

Draco snorted. "If you think I want him near any of those harpies, you can think again. Who knows what they'd do to him!"

"Harry can handle himself, Draco," Theo said tiredly. "And he really does need to know about this. If you don't tell him, I will."

"Why am I still friends with you?"

…

Harry ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. "I hate to say I told you so but—"

"You love to say I told you so," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "And yes, I know, you were right. I just… after everything, do you blame me for wondering?"

Softening, Harry tugged him close. "I don't blame you, I just… I guess I wish you'd had a little bit more faith in me; if only so this wasn't happening now. I'll… I'll send a statement to the Prophet, asking people to lay off, okay?"

Draco nodded and buried his face against Harry's neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have trusted you more."

"It's done," Harry replied, caressing the skin at Draco's hip. "We'll fix it."

…

Draco couldn't really find it in himself to complain about Harry's way of fixing things. He did as he'd said and sent off a statement to the Prophet, but he also took to walking Draco everywhere he needed to go in the castle.

He even sat in the stands and did his homework while Draco trained the Slytherin Quidditch team. As eighth years, they weren't allowed to play, but that didn't stop Draco from spending as much time in the air as he could.

After the statement, the attacks did lessen. Draco was used to be glared at, so the looks aimed his way didn't bother him and things got better.

"You're not even sorry, are you?" Theo asked him, smirking. Harry had just walked him to his History of Magic class, leaving him at the good with a gentle kiss.

Draco smiled. "I'm really not."

"Of course you're not. Next you'll be telling me this was your plan all along."

When Draco's smile turned sly, and a pink blush dusted his cheeks, Theo shook his head. "Why am I still friends with you?"


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

_Written for Pairing the Character - TheoCharlie_

**Word Count** \- 531

* * *

**don't let it define you**

* * *

The Great Hall was bustling, an air of both celebration and mourning, the contrasting emotions fighting for dominance.

Charlie couldn't deal with it. It was overwhelming, and he felt like he was drowning in it.

The moment he stepped out into the cool air of the spring night, he felt something inside himself unclench. The grounds were empty, and Charlie enjoyed the solitude of the moment, strolling along the grass.

He frowned when he saw a figure sitting on crumbled steps by the old boathouse. Hesitating only for a moment, he approached quietly.

"Why are you sitting out here, alone?" Charlie asked, sitting down beside the younger man on the steps.

He startled at Charlie's voice and turned to look at him. "I don't belong in there," he murmured, after a long moment.

Charlie frowned. He'd clearly been fighting, the state of his clothes and a large gash on his face evidenced as much.

"I'm a Slytherin," he added bitterly.

"Did you fight against Voldemort?"

The other man flinched slightly but nodded. "And my own father."

"Then you belong there with everyone else," Charlie said firmly.

The other man didn't reply, but they sat together in companionable silence as the sun came up over the grounds.

Eventually, Charlie stood up, stretching tall. He was stiff and aching and he wanted a bath and to curl up in his own bed.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Come inside. You need that cheek looking at, and you should eat something. Get some rest."

"I'll probably get arrested the moment I step into the hall. My family… they were known for being on the Dark Lord's side. Nobody will trust me."

"I won't let them," Charlie replied softly. "I promise."

The younger man stood and looked at Charlie for a long moment. "I'm Theo Nott."

"Charlie Weasley," Charlie replied. "You didn't let your house define you, don't let your last name either."

Theo snorted. "Easier said than done."

"Easier than fighting in a war."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?"

…

**Six Years Later**

…

Charlie muttered to himself as he climbed onto the bed in the hospital wing. Gloria, their currently very pregnant Chinese Firebolt, hadn't been very happy to see him in her paddock, and she'd made her anger known.

"Ah, this is Charlie Weasley. He's probably one of our most frequent visitors, since he has no fear and no bloody common sense," Anastasia, the head healer at the reserve said.

Charlie looked up and blinked. "Theo?"

Theo smiled. Charlie took in the healer robes and grinned.

"It's good to see you," he said.

"It'll be better when we get some burn salve on you, I reckon," Theo replied, raising his eyebrow.

"You look… good."

"Hmm. Decided to take some advice I got about not letting my name define me. It turned out rather well, all told."

Charlie winced, when the cold salve touched onto the large burn on his arm, but his smile soon returned. "That's good. I'm… I'm happy to hear that."

"Thank you," Theo murmured, soft enough that it was for Charlie's ears only. "Maybe I could take you out, you know, to properly show my appreciation?"

"I'd like that."


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for** Pairing the Character, DaphneCho.

**Word Count** \- 523 (because clearly I can't stick to the word count, sorry babe).

**Warnings **\- Alcoholism.

* * *

**Until The Next Time **

* * *

Your hair is in your face, little strands tickling the skin on your cheeks and nose. It's your alarm that tells you your shift is almost over, the charms you use are wearing off.

You have one more patient to see, and you've been putting it off as long as you can because you know it isn't going to be pretty.

There's no quick cure for alcoholism. You can't just hand over a potion or cast a spell and have the problem be fixed. You only wish it could be that simple.

With a sigh, you push back the curtain that's been wrapped around her bed to offer a small semblance of privacy.

"Miss Chang," you greet, when she doesn't even look at you.

She turns her head slowly, her wide, dark eyes already filled with unshed tears. "Daph."

You close your eyes briefly, because you can't do this. You know you should hand off her case to another healer, but you've never been able to do it, no matter how many times you say you will.

"I understand from the chart that you've fallen?"

Cho stares at you, her eyes beseeching, because you both know that she's not here because of a rough cut on her leg.

"Daph, please."

You shake your head and gesture to her muddied trousers. "I'm going to have to cut away the material on the bottom, I hope you don't mind."

"Leave the fucking cut," Cho snaps, and you raised your eyebrows. "I'm not here for the cut, Daph. It's the only way you'll see me!"

"If you don't want to be treated, Miss Chang—"

"I want you to love me again!"

You step back from the bed and hold the chart to your chest, sliding your wand back into it's holster on your forearm.

"I'll have it added to your form that you're refusing treatment," you say, and you curse yourself because your voice is shaky. "You should be discharged shortly."

"Daph, please," Cho begs, sitting up on the bed. She's a mess of tears and mud and stinks of cheap alcohol.

You shake your head sadly. "I can't be with you while you're drinking, Cho. I told you that."

"I love you!"

You step out from the cubicle and take a moment. You love her too, of course you do. You have for years. You tried to help her stop drinking, but it never worked. The bottom of the bottle was too strong a calling for her.

You're still hoping for her to stop, to get the help she so desperately needs, but every time she visits the hospital and refuses to see anyone but you, that hope degrades. You worry that soon, there will be no hope left.

"Daphne! Daphne, please!"

You walk away, every step adding cracks to your already broken heart. At the desk, you offer the chart over with a sad smile.

"Miss Chang is refusing treatment. She can be discharged."

The nurse looks back with understanding, and you can barely stop your tears from making themselves known.

You're so glad the day is over. Until the next time, at least.


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1073

**Pairing **\- PansyRose

* * *

**Not Tonight **

* * *

The bar was dark and gloomy, but it matched her mood so she took a seat at the bar anyway. If only her old friends could see her now. Not that they'd care, she mused. None of them wanted anything to do with her.

She ordered a vodka and lemonade from the barman, disappointed that she could burn away her self pity with firewhiskey.

That was the price for anonymity. Many of the bars in the Wizarding World wouldn't allow her entrance though, and the few that did… well. Even she wasn't so desperate for company that she'd associate with the degenerates in those places.

She finished her drink in minutes and called for another one, blinking when instead of the nondescript barman who'd served her first was suddenly replaced by a young woman.

She seemed out of place in the bar, her vibrant red hair the brightest thing in the place. Warm brown eyes looked back at Pansy, and she wondered if she was imagining the little bit of sympathy in them as the barmaid nodded when Pansy told her what she wanted.

The drink was exchanged for money, and the barmaid moved to the opposite end of the bar, picking up glasses as she went. Pansy watched her, entranced by her every move. She was pure grace, each movement fluid.

It was beautiful to watch.

She smiled at the customers when they approached her, talking quietly to those she seemingly knew well, making drinks quickly and competently.

Pansy _wanted. _

She ordered two more drinks, the second mostly because she wanted the barmaid to return to her more than any desire for another drink.

"You don't recognise me, do you?"

Pansy blinked. Surely she'd remember such a vision if she'd seen her before?

"Um, no. I'm sorry, I don't."

The barmaid nodded. "I'm Rose Weasley. Ron and Hermione Weasley are my parents."

Heart sinking, Pansy pushed her stool back and stood up, intending to leave her drink and just get the hell out of the bar. She felt so _stupid. _Here she was, fantasising about how good the young woman would look spread out on Pansy's bed sheets, only for it to turn out that she was Harry fucking Potter's neice.

"Wait!" Rose called, before Pansy could leave. "You don't have to go. I… I'd like it if you stayed. It'd be nice to talk to someone from… that world."

Pansy paused, frowning. "You don't speak to your family?"

Rose nodded. "I do, of course I do, but they feel bad speaking about," she lowered her tone, "magic in front of me. I'm a squib, they think it will make me jealous or… something."

Pansy frowned and slowly sat back down. Now that she thought of it, she remembered years ago seeing something about the Weasley's having a squib child, but she'd ignored it.

"I suppose it's understandable to believe you would be… jealous?" she suggested, hesitantly.

Honestly, in Pansy's experience, squibs were sent off to the Muggle world as soon as it was proven that they didn't have magic. Pure Blood culture, she supposed, was different to the 'New Age' witches and wizards.

Rose shrugged elegantly. "Perhaps, though it does make for some rather awkward encounters when I speak to them."

Pansy was about to say that she could imagine, but she really couldn't. She didn't speak to many people at all, but certainly not squibs. She'd already lost most of the respect her name had once garnered her, she could only imagine the rumours should she been seen out with squibs on top of that.

Just the thought of the look on her mother's face was enough to make Pansy chuckle. When Rose quirked an eyebrow at her in question, Pansy just shook her head.

"Nothing, just a passing thought. I'm quite surprised you didn't demand I leave, given you clearly know who I am."

Rose rolled her eyes. "It's not for me to judge you for a mistake you made when you were seventeen. That's one thing I'm glad I avoided—that world is so very judgemental."

Pansy nodded, because she couldn't deny the truth of that particular matter. After all, that one mistake had followed her through her life since.

They spoke for the next hour, only interrupted when Rose moved down the bar to serve another customer. Each time, she came straight back, leaning on the treated wood as she engaged with Pansy completely.

"I admire your resilience," Rose said, when Pansy explained briefly about how it was hard to find a job when your face and name had been plastered across the Daily Prophet as a war criminal. "A lot of people would have given up long ago if they were treated so badly by so many."

Pansy shrugged. "What is there left to do but keep on going?"

…

She ended up remaining in the bar until last orders, and even beyond that, as the few other customers stumbled through the double doors, unsteady on their legs as the alcohol they'd consumed took effect.

Pansy had to cover a giggle when a particularly drunk man lost a battle with spacial awareness and fell over a chair.

"I know a diner close by, if you…" Rose trailed off, a charming blush colouring her cheeks. "If you wanted to get something to eat?"

Pansy smiled at the younger woman. "I'd like that."

"Or… or you could come back to mine. For coffee. Is that a thing in the wizarding world? When coffee means—"

"It's a… yes. I understand what you're asking for," Pansy confirmed. "And I think, for tonight, we should perhaps stick to the diner."

The hope in Roses' eyes seemed to dull, and Pansy reached out to put a gentle hand beneath her chin, raising her head until their eyes met.

"I'm not saying no to… coffee. I'm saying not tonight."

"Oh. Really?"

Pansy nodded. Really.

She knew that she was probably making a mistake. Rose was years her junior, beautiful and vibrant and full of life, but Pansy _wanted. _She ached for the young woman, and though part of her thought that it would be best to just take her home and give her what she was asking for, Pansy wanted to stretch it out a little.

Just this once, she wanted to be a little bit selfish and hold on to something that she wanted. Even if it was only for a little while.

* * *

**Written for; **

Ship 'til you drop - PansyRose

Rubik's Cube - Blue - Resilience


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for** Pairing the Character - TonksKingsley

**Word Count** \- 514

* * *

**A Smile So Bright **

* * *

The Minister's office was… different. Kingsley wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He was used to being in a little cubicle in a long line of them. He was used to people being noisy, to laughter and shouting and the occasional ranting about the ineptitude of the higher ups.

The silence in his new office was far too loud.

He arranged his pictures on his desk, the tips of his fingers skimming over the bubblegum pink hair of the woman who was grinning up at him cheekily, her eyes twinkling like she knew something he didn't.

Tonks had always looked at him like that.

…

"_Why are you looking at me like that?" _

"_Like what?" she asked, grinning like a loon. _

"_Like you're about to play the world's best prank on me!" _

"_Who says I'm not?" _

…

He missed her. It was like having a limb cut off, he thought. He kept expecting her to be there and she just… _wasn't. _

The war had taken so much, so many lives, and yet for Kingsley, she was that one too many. She was the one that made him wish he'd fought harder, been faster. She was the one that made him wish that he'd aimed to kill instead of capture like he'd always been taught.

Not that she'd like that—she'd always been the most humane Auror in the office.

…

"_Should have killed him when we had the chance," Moody growled, his eye spinning angrily in it's socket. _

_Kingsley sighed, but Tonks shook her head. _

"_That would make us as bad as them! We're not here to play executioner, Mad-Eye! We're here to protect people!" _

"_And how's that doing anything when monsters like him roam free, Tonks? He deserves execution!" _

"_Then you're in the wrong job," she snapped. _

…

She'd always been so passionate—about everything. When she loved, she loved completely, and it was wondrous to be the center of that love. Kingsley had always thought himself blessed to know that feeling.

With just a look, a simple touch, or even a smile, she'd been able to convey her love to him so stunningly.

…

_She sat beside him on the sofa, immediately burying her face against his neck. "M'tired, Kings." _

"_Take a nap, sweetheart," he murmured softly, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. _

_She nodded. "Can I stay here? You make a comfortable pillow." _

_He chuckled, but wrapped his arms around her. "Of course you can." _

…

"Sir?"

Kingsley looked up. "Yes?"

"Your next appointment is here."

Kingsley nodded and put the photo down, pride of place in the middle of his desk. He kept her there so she could watch over him, so she could keep him honest, and so he could remember to always have her compassion.

When she met him in the afterlife, he wanted her to be proud of him. Everyday until that day, he'd strive to be everything she'd seen in him.

"I love you," he murmured to the picture.

Her smile was as beautiful as if she was there in the room.


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 951

* * *

**Even The Little Moments Matter **

* * *

It was the middle of the night, but Sirius couldn't sleep. His mind was working too fast and every attempt at turning it off was met with even more thoughts that he couldn't shake away. He slipped from the bed, smiling slightly when Remus protested in his sleep, cuddling deeper into the blankets when Sirius' warmth left the bed.

Sirius moved silently through the small flat they shared into the living room. Remus' paperwork still littered the coffee table, and Sirius' book was resting on the arm of the sofa, open to the page he'd left it at.

The sink held their mugs from just before they'd retired, the rings around the rim stained from the hot chocolate. Remus refused to go to bed without at least one mug full, and it had been cold enough that Sirius had joined him instead of sipping at a beer, like he preferred in the summer.

Sirius crossed to the window and looked out over the street. It was unnaturally still at night, the street lights casting shadows over the road. There wasn't even a cat out, inspecting the bins. Looking out into the peaceful stillness, it was hard to believe that a war was raging all around them.

It seemed _almost _impossible, really, that only three days earlier, Sirius and Remus had been fighting for their lives alongside their friends.

_Almost_, because when Sirius moved, he could still feel the ache in his ribs from a bludgeoning hex he hadn't quite been able to escape.

Thoughts of that battle, of James skimming a green light far too closely, of Regulus behind a mask that might as well have been invisible to Sirius' eyes, of Remus telling him quietly that Dumbledore thought Remus might be able to get somewhere with the Werewolves that were underground….

The thoughts jumbled up in his mind, and really, it was no surprised that Sirius couldn't sleep, when his waking hours were filled with so much uncertainty and fear.

It wasn't all bad, not at all, and he knew that he was also lucky, despite the war, and the pain.

There was Remus with a his warm eyes and his kind smiles and his gentle touches. They had their friends. They had days where things could be perfect, if they could only force reality away for a little while.

There was still laughter, and there was still love, and for that, Sirius would always be grateful. Even without the war, Sirius wouldn't have taken Remus for granted, but the world they were currently inhabiting just made that all the more important.

Even the little things mattered, when there were people willing and even hoping to tear you apart at the seams.

Sirius pondered making tea, but decided against it. Just the idea of it seemed like an effort, and now that he'd climbed out of bed, he was suddenly exhausted. He sunk down into the overstuffed armchair closest to the window and let his head fall back against the cushion, closing his eyes.

He knew, if he let himself, he could probably fall asleep here. Only knowing that Remus was waiting for him in the bedroom stopped Sirius from falling prey to the sandman. The few times Sirius had let himself sleep in the living room, Remus had worried for days afterwards, biting his bottom lip and watching Sirius so carefully, like he was made of porcelain.

It warmed Sirius' heart, to know that Remus loved him so much, but occasionally, he could find that love overwhelming. Probably because he'd never had it before, he knew.

"Sirius?"

Sirius blinked his eyes open and looked to the door, where Remus, sleep crumpled and adorable, swayed slightly against the frame.

_He was so precious. _

"You okay?"

Sirius nodded and smiled. "Just couldn't sleep," he murmured. "Why are you up?"

"I woke up and you weren't there," Remus admitted, his voice sleep rough and throaty. It sent a thrill through Sirius, the same way it always did, that he was permitted to have this, to have Remus when he was still half asleep and vulnerable.

The trust was still enough to make Sirius dizzy sometimes.

"Sorry, baby," he replied. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Remus nodded and stumbled forwards until he was in front of Sirius, and held out his hand. Sirius immediately placed his own into the calloused fingers, and tugged Remus down into his lap.

Remus blinked up at him, his lips tilting into a fond smile. "I was planning to pull you up, not end up down here."

"I like you here," Sirius said, wrapping his arms around Remus and hugging him tightly. "You fit so perfectly here, like you belong here."

"I _do _belong here," Remus stated, strong and undeniable, even in his sleep addled state. "Right here, with you."

Sirius nodded, pressing his lips to Remus' head to save himself from having to answer. He still struggled with it sometimes, the emotions that threatened to drown him whenever Remus did something or said something like that.

It made Sirius' heart ache, but in a good way.

"Sirius, come back to sleep," Remus murmured, after a long moment passed. He pushed himself to his feet and pulled the willing Sirius along with him, tugging him back towards their bedroom.

They climbed into bed, and Remus cuddled closer immediately, pressing his face into the hollow of Sirius' shoulder. Sirius wrapped his arms back around Remus and held him close, listening as Remus' breath evened out into sleep once more.

His own eyelids were heavier now, and his thoughts had slowed, zeroing in on the man in his arms.

Sirius fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C4. Iridessa - Write about someone on the 'light' side of the war.

Showtime - 44. Best of Wives, Best of Women: (time) middle of the night

Attic - 44. "[Name], come back to sleep."

Pop Figure - Foggy Nelson - 1. Sirius Black / 2. Paperwork

FunFair - Sponge Throwing - Liza, RemusSirius

Funfair - Hook a Pygmy Puff - Archibald - Action, Cuddling

365 - 148. Precious


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom**.

**Word Count** \- 1692

* * *

**Head Or Heart **

* * *

He kicked the ball, and for a split second stared after it, excitement bursting through him when it sailed passed the keeper and hit the back of the net.

Then his teammates were piling on him, screaming and shouting as the whistle blew to signify the goal.

The game was almost over, Theo knew, though he didn't know exactly how long they had left. As long as they could keep the other team away from their net, the cup would be theirs, and he knew that his own determination to accomplish exactly that was matched by his teammates.

Adrenaline made his blood pump harder as he ran across the field, and only when the whistle blew twice to end the game did he let himself stop moving, bending over with his palms pressed against his knees as he let the knowledge that they'd actually won fill him up.

"We did it!" he heard, and he looked up just in time to see Blaise running towards him. Theo only barely managed to stand up straight before his best friend was plowing into him, screaming out his happiness and pride.

…

The party was raucous, understandably so, and the beer was flowing. Theo mingled amongst his team, all of them gleeful and satisfied that their hard work had paid off. Sure, it was only a university game, but they'd still worked hard for months to bring the trophy home.

Theo entered the kitchen of the house, intent on getting a drink, and found it occupied by Draco and some blonde bimbo that would undoubtedly fall into bed with him before the night was over.

"You've done so many awesome things," the girl simpered, bringing a smirk to Draco's face as the blond man winked over her shoulder at Theo.

"There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait," he replied to the girl, and Theo shook his head as he opened his beer.

Draco was his friend, but he didn't understand how the man still managed to get so many girls. Everyone knew that he wasn't going to settle down with any of them, and yet, the girls kept on coming, probably thinking that they'd be the ones to tame Draco.

Unlikely, Theo thought, since Draco was already head over heels from a girl he'd seen just once at a coffee shop. She'd shot him down and stalked away, and Draco had been smitten ever since. In fact, Theo was pretty sure Draco still went to that same coffee shop a few times a week in the hopes of running into her again.

Theo left the kitchen with his beer and stepped out into the warm night air of the back garden. There were people milling around outside too, enjoying the slightly unseasonal warmth of spring.

"Oh, you scored the winning goal, right?"

Theo turned his head to see a redhead leaning against the wall, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Theo nodded. "Team effort to win the match though."

"Oh, of course. It was a good goal though. Congrats on winning the cup."

"Um, thanks."

The redhead snorted. Theo didn't recognise him, though in fairness that didn't mean much. He tended to avoid a lot of the parties on campus, preferring the quiet of his room or the library for his evenings.

"You're not like I would have expected," the redhead said, taking a drag of his cigarette. The embers burned brighter for a moment, before the man moved it from his lips and blew out a plume of smoke. "You don't seem like a typical footballer."

"Typical footballer?"

"Loud, crass, flirty?"

"Oh. I guess I don't buy into stereotypes," Theo replied turning away. "I don't believe people can be put into boxes quite so simply."

"You're not wrong, but it's refreshing to meet someone who hasn't just fallen into the stereotype that's there for them."

"I'm so confused right now," Theo said, mystified. "Are you happy I'm not a stereotypical footballer or not?"

The redhead chuckled. "I am. It's a nice change of pace."

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," Theo said, tilting his head.

"You wouldn't have done," the redhead replied. "I'm a postgraduate student, doing my Masters, I don't actually spend much time on campus, and I rarely attend the parties."

"What made you come to this one?"

"I suppose I thought I should make an appearance to congratulate the team. It's been a while since the Bumblebee's won anything."

Theo bristled slightly at the implication, and he could tell that the other man knew about it, because he grinned cheekily.

"What's your name?" he asked, because clearly the man knew who Theo was, and he hated to be at a disadvantage.

"Charlie. Charlie Weasley."

…

Theo woke up feeling like shit. His mouth tasted like an animal had crawled inside and died there, his head was pounding and when he shifted, his stomach rebelled violently, threatening to expel it's contents immediately.

He groaned, and lifted a hand to his aching head. He had vague, blurry memories of the night before, but he didn't remember getting to bed at all. When he forced himself to open his eyes, he found that he was in a room he didn't recognise and he panicked.

What the hell had he done?

He turned slowly to the side to see the sleeping face of Charlie Weasley.

_Shit_.

Theo rolled over, valiantly trying to ignore the protests his stomach made at the movement. He could suffer his hangover in peace as soon as he got back to his own room, but until then, his body was just going to have to suck it up.

Maybe if it could handle alcohol better, Theo wouldn't have found himself in this mess to begin with.

Thankfully, he was still wearing his shorts and yellow football shirt, so he didn't think he'd done anything too bad, though waking up with a practical stranger was bad enough.

He heard his teammates talking about such encounters lots of times, but Theo had never been one for falling into bed with the first willing participant he came across.

"You're thinking too loud," Charlie grumbled, putting an arm over his head. "Stop it."

Theo snorted as he finished tying his shoes. "I'm gonna go," he said quietly. "I'll, um, see you around?"

Charlie moved his arm enough to blink his eyes open at Theo. "Is there a reason you're running out of here like you think I've got a disease or is this standard practice?"

Theo blinked. "Um. I… guess I thought this is how it's supposed to go?"

Charlie chuckled as he turned onto his back, propping his head up beneath his arms. "Well, if you're not in any rush, I know a really good cafe nearby, they do the best post hangover breakfast you'll ever try."

Theo hesitated. He knew he should leave and forget all about Charlie Weasley, but…

"_Listen to your head. Heart gets you in trouble, head is your friend." _

Theo's mother's words echoed in his mind and he winced. That was why he shouldn't go to breakfast with Charlie. His mum was right and he knew it.

"I, uh—"

"I'm asking you to breakfast, not for your hand in marriage."

A chuckle escaped Theo and he sighed then nodded. "Okay, breakfast."

…

When they'd finished breakfast, Charlie asked if Theo would like to go to the movies with him, later in the week, but Theo said no before he could think himself into it.

He didn't have time for distractions from his work, not if he wanted to keep the scholarship that would hopefully save him from years of debt.

Charlie took the denial well and he didn't push Theo for more. He smiled perhaps a little sadly and then clapped Theo on the back before they parted ways.

Theo thought that would be the end of it. Except, he started seeing Charlie all over the campus. Sometimes, the redhead wouldn't see him at all, and Theo would just walk in the opposite direction, feeling oddly awkward around the man.

Other times, Charlie _would _see him, and he'd wave and call out a greeting, apparently not feeling any of the awkwardness that Theo was.

Theo avoided the parties over the following weeks, choosing instead to busy himself with the last weeks of coursework and exam prep.

Leaving the library one night, he was surprised to see Charlie sitting outside it, on the hood of his car. Theo blinked and then walked closer.

"What are you doing here?"

"I can't get you out of my mind," Charlie replied. "And I know you said you didn't want to go to the movies, but I asked around—"

"You what?"

"And I was told that you don't ever date and I wondered… I wondered why you don't date? And if it's not personal, maybe I could help you change your mind."

"I… it's not personal, you're right," Theo admitted. "I just don't have time to date. I don't trust myself not to get distracted and you… you're very… you could distract me easily."

Charlie let out a slightly frustrated noise. "I get that you're focused on your school work, I really do, I feel the same about my own. I just… you don't need to be present to distract me, Theo. I just… all I'm asking for is a date. Just… a chance?"

Theo knew he should say no, he really did. But… Charlie was looking at him with so much hope, and Theo… he liked Charlie. He wanted to know more about him.

"Okay."

…

Theo held the graduation scroll in his fist, a wide smile on his face. He'd actually done it, he couldn't believe it.

Large hands wrapped around his waist from behind, picking him up and spinning him around. "Congratulations, baby!"

He was set back on his feet and he turned in the embrace to smile widely at Charlie.

"I did it!"

"I never doubted you," Charlie said, his smile wide and honest. He pressed a kiss to Theo's head. "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

**Written for;**

Disney - D3. "Listen to your head. Heart gets you in trouble, head is your friend."

Showtime - 4. Something alcoholic

Attic - 1. "There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait."

Film Festival - 20. Smoking

Marvel Appreciation - Mind Stone - 1. University!au, 2. Yellow, 4. Frustrated, 5. Thinking, 6. "I can't get you out of my mind."

Pop Figure - Alex Wilder - Theo Nott / Someone playing a sport / Mystified / "I'm so confused right now."

Funfair, South - Pygmy Puff - Benedict - University!au

Funfair, East - Gnome Throwing - Theodore Nott

365 - 133. Disease


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1125

_Disease taken from A Song of Ice and Fire and changed to fit the purposes of the story. _

* * *

**A Comfort Shared**

* * *

Theo was pottering around the little cottage he shared with his partner—he'd just put a pizza in the oven for dinner because he was feeling lazy and didn't want to cook—when the patronus arrived.

"Theo, I need you out here, I just came across a Chinese Fireball and she's injured and—"

Theo listened to Charlie's panicked rambling long enough to get his whereabouts and Apparated away from the cottage, the pizza in the oven forgotten.

…

He'd met Charlie at Hermione and Ron's wedding a few years previous.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The cheeky redhead had asked, making Theo snort.

"It's a free bar."

They'd spent hours talking that night, and when Charlie had spun Theo out onto the dancefloor, he'd felt a spark between them that had only intensified as they met for dates more and more often.

It helped, he supposed, that they both had a passion for animals. Theo had trained hard to become a magizoologist, and Charlie worked for the Dragon Reserve on the Welsh border, his passion for dragons undiminished, despite his mother begging him to move back to England following the war.

Charlie had confided in him that he still missed Romania dearly, but that in some ways, being back in his homeland was comforting. And of course, he'd settled even more when they'd bought the cottage together.

It bordered a forest, which was perfect for both of them, since they both loved being outdoors. Charlie, when he wasn't working and Theo was, often spent hours trailing through the forest, looking for creatures and just relaxing.

It worked for them, and they were happy.

…

Theo landed and looked around, noticing the humid air almost immediately. He spotted Charlie quickly, a little hard to miss when there was a dragon laid out on the forest floor beside him, it's scales gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the trees above.

"When did you find her?" he asked, stepping closer carefully. The dragon's eyes tracked him, the milky white of them eerily boring into him.

"About ten minutes before I sent you that patronus," Charlie replied, sniffing. "I have a theory… I think she has Greyscale."

Theo winced. There was no known cure for the disease, and it was fatal to dragons. Slowly, the Fireball's scales would lose their sheen and colour and would turn a dull shade of grey. Slowly, the internal organs would do the same, and eventually, the dragon would die, leaving naught but a stone statue in her place.

It was exceedingly rare, and Theo had no idea how a dragon on the British Isles could have contracted such a disease. It was usually only found in the deep rainforests of much hotter countries.

He raised his wand, keeping a careful distance between himself and the dragon. Charlie often had no self preservation when it came to dragons but Theo never forgot himself in the face of their beauty.

Dragons were and always would be dangerous, and dragons that were sick even more so.

A few diagnostic spells and Theo felt his heart sink. As he lowered his wand, he couldn't make himself look at Charlie. He'd be heartbroken, his attachment to Dragons enough that any pain caused to them hurt him personally.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low. "You're right. She has Greyscale."

When he finally looked up, he saw that Charlie's eyes were shiny with unshed tears and he moved closer, taking Charlie's hand in his own and squeezed it comfortingly.

As though she knew something was wrong, the Fireball huffed and the two of them had to dodge the weak burst of fire that shot from her nostrils.

Charlie moved closer to her, crying silently. Theo wished he could do something, anything, to ease the pain for both of them. He hated to see Charlie upset for any reason, and seeing a creature suffering went against every instinct he had as a magizoologist.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, voice low.

They could let it happen in the natural way, let her turn to stone, or Theo could help her along, let her die as she was. Charlie was intelligent and he knew what Theo was asking him.

"You do it," Charlie whispered.

It seemed to echo in the forest, loud to Theo's ears, and he swallowed hard because he knew how much it must have cost Charlie to say it. He nodded, and Apparated back to their cottage to get his supplies before returning to the forest.

It was getting cloudy, and with that, darker, so he had Charlie create some soft lighting. To the dragon, he administered a fatal but kind poison that would send her to sleep before attacking her heart.

As she drifted, Charlie sat down beside her, stroking her scales lightly. It was unfortunate, in a way, that Charlie had come across her. Theo hated to think of her dying alone but he knew this would affect Charlie for a while and he hated to see his partner so sad.

"Let's go home," Charlie said eventually, holding out his hand to Theo. The Apparated together, landing just outside their back door.

"I'm sorry," Theo said, pressing a kiss to the back of Charlie's shoulder blade.

They entered the kitchen and Theo gasped when he saw smoke filling the place. "Shit! I forgot I put the pizza in before I left!"

Charlie shook his head fondly as he cleared the smoke with his wand, and Theo carefully levitated the charcoal that once was pizza from the oven onto the side.

"It's fine," Charlie said, when Theo looked at him apologetically. "I'm craving chocolate and cuddles anyway."

Theo nodded. He should have expected it really. While he himself was more a savoury fan, Charlie had a massive sweet tooth, especially when he needed comfort.

"Then chocolate and cuddles you shall have."

…

Later, when they were curled on the sofa under blankets, their eyes on the fishtank in the corner where Frank, their goldfish, swam in lazy circles, Charlie pressed his lips to Theo's neck.

"Sorry about the panicked patronus call. I wish I could say that was the last time—"

"But I know you," Theo interrupted. "And you'll do it again if you need too. I don't mind, Charlie, you know that. I just… wish I could have saved her."

Sighing heavily, Charlie nodded. "I know. Next time, next time maybe it'll go better. I know it's hard for you to lose a creature too."

Theo just snuggled closer against Charlie's broad chest. Even when he'd had the worst possible day, just being this close to Charlie was enough to give him comfort.

He could only hope to always offer Charlie the same.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C5. Someone who loves the outdoors.

Space - 12. Dragon

Book Club - Lauren - Chocolate / Pizza / Crying

Showtime - 2. "Can I buy you a drink."

Attic - 27. "I wish I could say that was the last time."

Liza Loves - 6. Wood Elf - A Forest

Arcade - Winston - Intelligent / Natural / Huffing or sniffing.

Scamander's Case - 18. Cloudy

Basement - 8. Game of Thrones - Include a dragon.

Pop Figures - Draco - 1. A slytherin / 4. Unfortunate

Mythology - 5. Echo

Around the World - 15. Wand

Funfair, North - Splash a Mod - Lo: 5. Dragon

Funfair, East - Petting Zoo - 11. Dragon - Fire / Scales / Shiny

Funfair, South - Lazy River - TheoCharlie

Days of the Year - 20. Chocolate Day - Someone craving Chocolate

Summer - 4. Humid

Colour - 3. Milk White

Element - 5. Burst

Mix it up - 4. Charlie Weasley / Emotion 2. Broken hearted

Gryffindor - 6. Charlie Weasley

365\. 151. Theory


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 2062

_Warning for fairly graphic description of murder of a child and also arson at an orphanage. _

* * *

**Following A Different Path **

* * *

_He'd thought this was what he wanted. _

…

Regulus stood in the small crowd, robes pressed perfectly, silver mask in place, heart pounding in his chest. It was his first full Death Eater meeting, and he was so nervous.

He tried his best to follow who was speaking, and he thought he knew most of the others already, but the masks made it hard to know who was speaking.

The Dark Lord stood in front of them all, his eyes drifting over them. If Regulus didn't know better, he'd think that the Dark Lord looked _bored, _but Regulus could tell he was listening for every single detail of the reports, waiting for evidence of a mistake or success.

From the way Bellatrix had spoken of these meetings, the Dark Lord would reward success lavishly, but his punishments for mistakes were always twice as brutal.

"Regulus," the Dark Lord hissed, breaking into Regulus' thoughts.

Regulus swallowed hard but bowed. "My Lord?"

"Are you mission ready?"

"If my Lord wishes it."

Apparently he'd passed whatever test was being set because the Dark Lord's thin lips quirked up in approval.

"Very good," he said, eyeing the others. "You will accompany Rabastan and Rodolphus on their mission this weekend."

Regulus relaxed when The Dark Lord turned to another. Rodolphus, he only really knew through Bellatrix, and even then he'd never actually spoke to the man beyond greeting.

Rabastan… Rabastan was a large part of why Regulus was even there. Rabastan had talked him through much of the initiation, had promised to be there for him, had reached out to him when he had doubts in the days leading up to being marked.

He knew that he had more hope of being able to prove himself with Rabastan by his side; after all, Rabastan had been with him every step of the way so far. Why would this be any different?

Regulus was sure he could do this.

...

_He'd thought he could handle it._

…

Regulus wasn't given any instructions about the mission, beyond an order to stand back and watch the professionals do their job. He bit his tongue to stop himself arguing as Rabastan gripped his arm tightly, using side-along Apparition to take him to their location.

It appeared to be a Muggle building, and Regulus frowned when he saw the sign and realised it was an orphanage.

"Incendio," Rodolphus muttered, grinning to himself. He cast the spell again, and again, and Regulus became aware that on his other side, Rabastan was doing the same. The fire took hold, the building slowly going up in flames.

Regulus didn't understand why they'd been ordered to torch an orphanage. He knew that the Dark Lord saw the Muggles as filthy, had been brought up to believe the same but… these were just children.

What wrongs could they possibly have committed to earn such a fate?

Inside, the screams started, and Regulus winced. As he watched the building burn, it was almost like he could feel his own skin blistering under the heat. A window was thrown open, and the three Death Eaters looked up as one to see a woman helping children out of the window.

The screaming got louder.

"Avada Kedavra," Rodolphus sneered, pointing his wand upwards. The child hanging from the ledge fell, dead before it hit the ground. Only when the child landed did Regulus see that it was a little girl; and she couldn't have been more than nine years old.

He felt sick.

"Morsmordre," Rabastan cast quietly, and Regulus saw the skull and snake emblem appear in the sky.

"Let's go."

...

_He'd thought that this was what he was supposed to be doing. _

…

Regulus sat in his bedroom, watching the snow fall onto the square outside Grimmauld Place. His mother and father were downstairs, likely sharing an evening drink before they retired. They'd invited Regulus to join them, but he'd begged off, pleading tiredness.

He wasn't lying.

He hadn't been able to sleep since that night at the orphanage. He caught the odd hour, but he was always forced awake by vivid images of fire and that little girl that he just couldn't shake from his mind.

He hadn't ever thought he'd regret taking the mark, certainly not so soon, but he did. He wished that he'd ignored his parents words of pride, Bellatrix's explanations, Rabastan's soft guidance.

He wished instead that he'd taken his brother's outstretched hand and escaped while he still had the chance.

He could have been safe and yet…

If they could do that to an innocent child, he realised that he probably wasn't.

How was he supposed to be loyal to a man that could order such a mission without mercy, without care? How was he supposed to be loyal to another man that followed through on that mission, without thought, without compassion?

Rabastan hadn't even looked at him, beyond what was necessary when he'd picked Regulus up. Not even afterwards. He'd behaved like Regulus was any other newbie, someone to show the ropes but not care about.

Someone disposable.

Regulus wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. He knew, in his heart, that he wouldn't be able to do what they did. He wouldn't being able to heartlessly murder children that hadn't done anything wrong. He wouldn't be able to follow orders that had no purpose, other than to cause fear and create destruction for no reason.

But what other choice did he have?

...

_He'd thought he could still have someone. _

…

Before the mission, before he'd gotten the mark, Regulus thought that there was a certain shine to the way Rabastan looked at him. An interest that stretched beyond his loyalty to the Cause, and his wish to deliver more servants for their Lord.

He'd believed that his growing feelings were returned, and that afterwards, they could continue to build them into something real.

Something worth fighting for.

Called to a meeting, Regulus arrived early and was about to walk through the doors when he heard muffled voices.

"I heard from Walburga that Regulus didn't handle your mission very well," Bellatrix said, amusement evident in her voice. "He's been hiding in his bedroom since then. What on earth did you boys do to him?"

Regulus wanted to believe that his cousin was being protective, but he knew her, knew her tone's of voice—Bellatrix was temperamental at best, it was safer that way—and he knew that she just wanted a good laugh at his expense.

"We did nothing," Rodolphus replied.

"We followed the mission," Rabastan added. "I hoped Regulus was more than a stupid little boy with a crush, but… so far, he's not proving me right."

Bellatrix cackled. "I did warn you against using those bright blue eyes of yours to convince the prospects, Rab! They all believe they can have you afterwards, and it never ends well."

"He's a Black," Rabastan replied, and Regulus could practically hear the shrug in his voice. "I thought he was made of sterner stuff. Not my fault if he's a pansy, is it? The Dark Lord will toughen him up, or he'll kill him."

Not wanting to hear anymore, Regulus ensured his mask was fixed firmly on his face, and he walked through the doors and past the three of them, his robes brushing the floor as he walked with purpose and poise, as he'd been taught.

Rabastan was right about one thing; Regulus was a Black. It would take more than a broken heart to keep him down.

...

_He'd thought that he could still be loved. _

…

"I didn't mean it, you know?"

Regulus looked up, eyes widening slightly when he saw Rabastan standing in the doorway of the library.

"Didn't mean what?"

"You know exactly what," Rabastan said, stepping forwards until he was standing directly in front of the seat Regulus was sitting in. "You know how it goes, Reg. I can't show any kind of weakness to any of them—they'd only use you against me if they knew how I felt about you."

Regulus snorted, unable to stop himself. Whatever Rabastan was trying to do now, it wouldn't work. He was young but he wasn't stupid.

"What do you want, Rabastan?"

"I want to make sure that you know that I _do _care, Reg. I just… can't show that in front of everyone else."

"I won't be your dirty little secret," Regulus said flatly.

"I was thinking more _fancy little secret," _Rabastan tried to tease, but it was too late.

"You can see yourself out."

"Regulus—"

"I don't know how to trust you again," Regulus interrupted, looking up from his book. "I don't know how to listen to you talk bad about me behind my back and then come to me when you're bored or horny or lonely. I'm worth more than that, Rabastan."

Rabastan rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? You'd think that I cursed you or something!"

"You think that's the only way to hurt someone?"

Rabastan walked away without another glance, and Regulus looked down at his book, determinedly ignoring the tears that filled his eyes.

He didn't even wipe them away when they fell.

_.._

_He'd thought this would be his life._

...

The battle was madness. It was the first of this scale that Regulus had been part of and he _hated it. _Before, the other's had been excited, their adrenaline racing, their eagerness practically palpable.

This, the chaos and destruction, it was their craft and they revelled in it. It was insanity at it's worst, because not a single one of them could see anything wrong with what they were doing, what they were about to do.

And it didn't escape Regulus' notice that his brother would likely be on the opposite side of this battle.

Regulus knew that if anyone were watching him, they'd realise that his spells were lower level, and he hadn't uttered a single unforgivable. Even the spells he was casting were low powered because he didn't actually want to hurt anyone.

A familiar yell sounded and he spun around, looking for the face that matched the voice but he couldn't see anything. There were too many spells flying, too much spell residue in the air for him to see anything really.

The momentary distraction cost him though, and he cried out in agony when a curse hit his right shoulder, slashing through his robes and skin like it was nothing.

"Go!" Lucius Malfoy called, the closest senior Death Eater to him, and Regulus Apparated away. He knew he should check it in the mirror, but he couldn't bring himself to look at his own reflection.

It was painful, but he didn't think it was particularly dangerous. In all honesty, he didn't really care.

Instead, Regulus squeezed himself into the tiny gap between his bed and the wall and pulled a lemon blanket over himself, a remnant from his childhood.

Just for a while… just for a while, he wanted to hide.

He couldn't do this.

...

_He'd thought wrong._

...

In the silence and privacy of his bedroom, Regulus started looking at the lineage books. He'd been looking more and more into the Dark Lord, into his actions before Regulus joined his ranks and even earlier than that, before the Death Eaters became a thing.

It was hard to find any information at all, but as he stared down at the proof of his suspicions, Regulus could hardly believe his eyes.

For all of his Pure-Blood propaganda, the Dark Lord was a Half-Blood. There was a photograph in the book of the Gaunts, Marvolo, Morfin and Merope. Regulus had managed to trace him to Merope, and there, in the self updating magical book, was the name Tom Riddle attached to her own, with a baby of the same name beneath the two of them.

There were no Pure-Blood Riddle's in the Wizarding World. Regulus would know, he'd been brought up learning all about his culture. It was the way their family worked, had always worked.

Regulus wasn't sure what he could do with the information. Blackmailing the Dark Lord would only get him dead, not free.

But he had it, and he'd keep searching. One way or the other, Regulus would free himself. From the Dark Lord, from Rabastan…

He'd be free.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C8. Someone wanting something different in/from their life.

Trope - 10. Robes

Space - 17. Hiding in a tight space.

Book Club - Joaquin - "You think that's the only way you hurt someone?" / Regret / Photograph

Showtime - 14. Talking badly about someone.

Liza Loves - 7. Dark Elf - A Death Eater

Arcade - Mei - Hope / Relaxed / Snowing

Scamander - 5. Temperamental

Pop Figures - Punisher - An injury / Morsmordre / Robes / Avada Kedavra

Mythology - 7. Reflection

Around The World - 2. Craft

Funfair, North - Rat Race - 12. No Gryffindors

Funfair, East - Petting Zoo - Fwooper - Vivid / Fancy / Insanity

Funfair, South - Pygmy Puff - Whitney - Incendio

Days of the Year - 26. World Snake Day - A Slytherin

Summer - 8. Blistering

Colour - 9. Lemon

Elemental - 7. Torch

Mix It Up - 22. Rabastan / Dialogue 4. "I don't know how to trust you again."

Gryffindor - 4. Loyal

365\. 146. Filthy


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 986

* * *

**How Does Forever Sound?**

* * *

Tony woke slowly, his head pounding. It wasn't a new feeling, he'd had many a hangover over the years, but what was strange was that he wasn't alone in his bed.

A few years ago, that would have been normal, expected even, but not now. He hadn't done that since Pepper, even after the two of them had broken up and gone back to their friendship.

He forced his eyes open and turned his head, blinking to get rid of the hallucination when he realised it was Steve beside him.

What the actual fuck?

Steve groaned and his eyelids fluttered for a moment. Tony panicked, wondering if he should pretend to still be asleep, but before he could decide, Steve opened his eyes and looked right at Tony.

His eyes widened in surprise, and that made Tony feel a little better about not knowing what the hell was going on.

"Um. Hi?"

Tony snorted. "I don't know what's going on either but—"

Oh. Ouch. The ache in Tony's head took it upon itself to intensify and he winced, raising a hand to his head. Before he closed his eyes, he saw Steve do the same.

Memories fought for dominance and for a moment, Tony was completely overwhelmed and confused, but eventually, the pain left and he—

Oh fuck.

Lifting his hand, he cracked his eyes open to see the ring on the third finger of his left hand.

"We... we got married."

He felt rather than saw Steve nod. "Yeah… apparently we did."

…

"So… the orb made us get married? What?"

It was too early for this… then again, Tony wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for this conversation.

Fury nodded. "We still don't know exactly how it works, but when Loki hit you with it… you were different. And. Vocal. About certain desires. And then Steve took a hit and… we tried to stop you, Stark, but hell, even you know that when you want to do something, you're going to do it. Add in Roger's enthusiastic stubbornness and we had no chance."

Tony looked at his teammates. Bruce looked apologetic, and Nat was watching them curiously. Clint, the bastard, just looked amused. Thor was definitely apologetic, since it was his brother that had caused this mess.

Again.

"Well, they'll grant us a divorce, surely? Or annulment, since we haven't…" Tony trailed off, the mental images too much. "So, no real harm done. I'm going now. Email me when you know what Loki's orb actually does."

Before anyone could call him back, Tony left the room, because he knew if he stayed he was either going to cry, scream, or do something ridiculously embarrassing like beg Steve to love him and stay married.

Definitely time to go.

…

When the email finally came, Tony was fourteen hours into an inventing binge, using everything he could to remain distracted from his current reality.

_Stark, _

_The orb, at it's base, takes away your impulse control. It makes you realise your deepest wishes and go for them. Take that as you will. _

_We can have your marriage annulled if you and Rogers agree it's what you both want. Beyond that, sort it out yourselves. _

_I'm not your marriage counsellor. _

_Fury. _

Tony knew that the pirate was probably enjoying this situation far too much, but he was stuck on the 'deepest wishes' part. Because Steve was in on it with him. So that meant…

Nope. He wasn't going down that road. That road led to pain and uncertainty and him undoubtedly fucking up because that was what he was good at.

He'd have the marriage annulled and forget all about it.

…

"J.A.R.V.I.S told me you'd finally taken the workshop off lockdown."

Tony turned to see Steve standing behind him, dressed casually in sweats and a black hoodie. Then again, it was after midnight, so it was no surprise.

"You've got my AI spying on me now?" Tony asked, his lips quirking up slightly.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I asked him and he replied."

"How… disappointing," Tony said. "I thought for a second you were a master hacker. You've shattered all of my dreams now, I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Immensely," Steve replied, chuckling. "You know we've got to talk about this."

"What's to talk about? Fury said we can get it annulled. You got the email too, right?"

Steve nodded. "But… what if we didn't get it annulled?"

"That is the worst idea you've ever had. This isn't some fairytale, Steve."

"Tony—"

"What you're feeling right now is regret, Steve, and you're trying to make the best of a bad situation. You'll get over it, and it'll all go back to normal and—"

"I don't regret it, Tony."

"You don't want to be married to me! That's not a thing. I'm sarcastic, a workaholic, an asshole like, ninety percent of the time, and—"

"Kind, considerate, generous, gorgeous," Steve interrupted, raising his hand to stroke Tony's cheek. "And you want this as much as I do. You saw that email. _Deepest wishes, _Tony. For _both of us._"

"Steve—"

"Tony."

"So you think we can make this work, huh? Accidental marriage turned serious just by… what? Wishing it so?"

"Why not?"

"You're so optimistic, Steve."

"Then I'll balance out your pessimism, won't I?"

Tony snorted, but he leant against Steve's side, as the taller man rubbed a hand up and down his side.

"Just… give us a chance, Tony. We could be amazing together."

Tony swallowed. "I… yeah. We probably could."

"And when our children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight."

Tony choked on spit but when he looked up at Steve, it was to see him grinning down at him, eyes twinkling.

"You're a goddamn troll," he muttered.

Steve bent down and pressed their lips together. "Hmm. I'm also yours. For as long as you'll have me."

"How does forever sound?"

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 21. Sarcastic.

Attic - 4. "And when our children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight."

Arcade - Zenyetta - Orb / Accidental marriage / "How...depressing."

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Rockstar - 1. Leather outfit : Black

East Funfair - Pie Eating - Salted Caramel - "What you're feeling right now is regret."

South Funfair - Test Your Strength - God Level - "This is the worst idea you've ever had."

365\. 242. Fairytale.


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 398

* * *

**Payment **

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Tony looked up to see Steve ascend the stairs, a small smile on his face. He was carrying a writing pad and a pen, and he looked thoughtful.

"I've got a headache," Tony complained. He knew he must look ridiculous on the sofa, headphones discarded to just above him, bright yellow jumper on (though now he thought about it, it was actually Steve's jumper to begin with).

Steve sat down at the end of the sofa, and Tony immediately shifted to put his head in Steve's lap, burying his face against his stomach. "You're so fluffy."

"Fluffy?"

"Uh huh."

Steve stroked a hand through Tony's hair. "So, I uh. I was thinking of writing Bucky a letter and trying to slip it into his clothes next time we run across him. I just… I know he's not ready but… he needs to know that when he _is, _he has a place here."

Tony nodded, lifting his head for Steve to place a pillow on his knee for more padding. "It's a good plan, Steve."

"I just… don't know what to write."

"I mean, you gotta put some thought into the letter, so… why don't we watch a movie and you can chill and think about it. We've no idea where Bucky is at the moment, so there's no pressing rush."

Steve nodded. "We can do that. What's next on the list?"

"Jurassic Park, I think. J, see if anyone else is coming up, huh?"

"You're going to spend the whole movie explaining to Thor that dinosaurs are actually extinct."

Tony snorted. "Probably. Though… escaping to the lab now sounds like a better plan."

Steve shook his head and massaged Tony's temple. "Nope. You're staying right here to keep me warm."

Tony snorted, but they quieted as the others filed in and got comfortable, J.A.R.V.I.S starting the movie unprompted once everyone was there.

As predicted, Thor found the dinosaurs fascinating… and asked where he could get one as a pet.

…

Steve wrote his letter, and a few weeks later, managed to slip it into Bucky's uniform.

Two and a half months later, Bucky showed up at the tower, confused and unsettled but there.

Tony couldn't be happier for him, but he took payment in cuddles, head massages, and brightly coloured jumpers that joined the yellow one in his wardrobe.

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 35. Letter

Attic - 18. "I mean, you gotta put some thought into the letter."

Arcade - Lucio - Bright yellow / Headphones / Ascend

North Funfair - Rat Race - Pillow

East Funfair - Petting Zoo - Diricawl - Fluffy / Escaping / Extinct

South Funfair - Pygmy Puff - Humphrey - Fascinating

365\. 213. Headache


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 548

* * *

**It Was Her Duty **

* * *

"You're not supposed to cry on your birthday."

Druella turned and threw herself into Abraxas' waiting arms. She'd been waiting for him all evening, her party not enough to pull her attention away from the man she loved.

"I worried when I couldn't find you," he said into her hair. "What are you doing hiding back here?"

She felt her cheeks heat up in a blush and she nuzzled her face closer to his neck. "Cygnus has been more awful than usual," she admitted. "He is… difficult, these days. Since Narcissa was born."

"He doesn't—"

"Oh, I'm sure he suspects but he's done nothing about it. There are whispers though, and you know how he hates rumours."

"We were careless," Abraxas admitted. "But I don't regret it, Dru. I don't regret our daughter."

"We don't know that she is," Druella replied, though there was no conviction in her tone.

Abraxas simply held her, supportive as he always was. She loved that about him. She loved everything about him.

That was why this was so hard.

They'd been together since they were mere children, still students in Hogwarts. She'd loved him then, too. Except the happy ever after that she was supposed to get never came to fruition when her parent's accepted an arranged marriage with Cygnus Black on her behalf.

She had begged and pleaded with them to consider the one offered by the Malfoy's instead, but it had brought nothing but disappointment.

Marrying Cygnus had been her duty, but loving Abraxas had been her choice. Which was why, when he came to her after her wedding, she'd fallen so easily into his welcoming embrace.

Their affair had last years, over a decade in fact, but now… now she had no choice left.

"We can't keep seeing each other," she whispered against his neck. "We have to stop now."

He pulled away from her, disbelief in his eyes. "What? Druella-"

"He knows," she admitted. "And I cannot keep doing this if I want to be alive to see my daughters grow up. He _will _kill me, Abraxas, you know he will."

"Not if I kill him first," Abraxas growled.

"And what good will that do?" she demanded, barely holding herself from full blown hysteria. "My husband dead and unable to support my girls, my lover in Azkaban for the rest of his days? Do not be a fool, Abraxas!"

"I don't want to lose you," he murmured, pulling her back against his chest. "I need you. I love you, Druella."

"I know," she replied, softening. "I love you too, so much you cannot possibly understand. But this… we cannot do this any longer. It's not safe."

When he pulled away from her this time, it was completely. He was heartbroken, she could see it in every line in his handsome face. She knew and understood the feeling well.

He nodded and turned away, and she had to force herself not to call him back because she needed him too and he was worth dying for.

But she couldn't. She had three daughters that still needed her. Until they were grown… she would have to put her own wants and needs to the back of her mind.

Until they were grown, she would follow her duty.

Not her heart.

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 27. An Affair

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Pop Diva Theme, 3. Back Up Singer Cutouts - Supportive

East Funfair - Wedding Chapel - Shocker - AbraxasDruella

South Funfair - Lazy River - "You're not supposed to cry on your birthday."

Mythology - 19. Heartbroken

365\. 248. Blush


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Pairing** \- DudleyBill

**Word Count** \- 1685

_Beta'd by the lovely Elizabeth _

* * *

**Spark **

* * *

Dudley hugged his tearful mother goodbye at the airport. Even there, she'd tried to convince him not to leave, but his mind was made up.

He was a grown man, and it was time for him to start standing on his own two feet.

The plane seat was uncomfortable, and he shifted restlessly. He tried to take solace from the fact that the flight was a little less than five hours. Since he'd contemplated going to Australia instead, he was even more satisfied with his choice now.

He'd never been able to sleep on planes, so as soon as the place was airborne, he slipped on his headphones and searched through the list of movies before settling.

It was strange, to be without his parents, but it was also freeing. Never before had he flown without his mum fussing beside him or his dad complaining loudly about every tiny detail.

It was a new experience, but one that he was more than ready for.

He stepped off the plane into blistering heat and smiled to himself as he put his sunglasses on. This was going to be brilliant.

…

Egypt was everything the brochures said, and even more than that. Dudley took time to explore the area around the hostel he was staying in before he headed out into the desert to see the Pyramids.

He was about a week into his stay in Egypt, and already his mum had called him seventeen times, asking him about sunscreen and eating and if he was ready to come home yet. More than once, he'd thought about turning his phone off, but he hadn't. Yet.

With a cap on his head to try and keep his face from being burned, he set off with the tour group. It was interesting, of course, but it was only when they got to the Valley of the Kings that Dudley's interest was truly peaked.

Peering around, he couldn't help but think it held a magical quality to it and he suddenly wished that his little cousin was there to tell him if his imagination was on point.

He stayed for so long, he almost missed his tour group moving on.

The next pyramid was smaller and less interesting, so Dudley decided to wait outside. The sun was starting to go down and it wasn't quite so hot, so he allowed himself to enjoy the midnight air. Across the way, talking to a few men with camels, was a red haired man.

He looked oddly familiar, and Dudley frowned when he met the man's eyes. There was something about him that Dudley just… recognised, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

As the man stared at him, eyes wide with shock, Dudley felt a spark running along his skin and he frowned. What the fuck was going on?

He took a step forward towards the man, but before he could get any further, the tour group came out of the pyramid and hustled them on.

Dudley couldn't stop himself from looking back repeatedly until the man was out of sight.

…

"Dudders! Oh, my baby, it's so good to see you!"

Dudley submitted to his mum's manhandling, wincing when she squeezed him tightly. On the journey home, he told his parents about the pyramids, about the hostel and about the heat, but he didn't mention the redhead.

The redhead that had filled his mind since their eyes met.

Dudley hadn't seen him again, though he'd taken the same tour the following day in the hopes of running into him.

It was strange. It wasn't the first time he'd been interested in a man, though it was the first time he'd ever felt a connection so suddenly, vividly, intense, from nowhere.

Determined to put the man out of his mind, Dudley threw himself into his new job working security, and spent his time alternating between looking for somewhere of his own to live and spending time with his friends.

He managed well, considering. The problem came at night, because even determination couldn't give him any peace in his dreams.

…

"I can't believe you got married," Dudley said in greeting, when Harry appeared in front of him with a beaming smile on his face. "Bit young to settle down, no?"

Harry shrugged, his smile not even twitching. "She's my soulmate. I love her."

Dudley nodded and looked around the tent. There was evidence of magic everywhere, and while he'd been nervous before he'd arrived, he was utterly enthralled by it all. He'd spent his first hour there peering around at all of the things that shouldn't, couldn't possibly, exist.

"It was a beautiful wedding," he offered, because that was what his mum always said to the bride and groom when they went to weddings in his youth. At home was another story of course, but this time, Dudley actually meant the words.

The love between Harry and Ginny was palpable.

"Thanks, Dud. And, uh, thanks for coming. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, so… thanks."

Dudley nodded and was about to tell Harry that he was enjoying himself when he caught sight of a man across the tent and his mouth fell open.

"Who is _that_?" he asked, nodding with his head so that Harry could follow his gaze.

"Oh. That's Bill. Ginny's eldest brother."

"I… I've seen him before," Dudley said, unable to tear his eyes away.

He could practically hear the confusion in Harry's voice when he said, "I doubt it, Dud. He's only here for the wedding, he lives in—"

"Egypt," Dudley finished for him, finally turning back to Harry. "I know."

"Holy shit," Harry muttered, glancing between the two of them. "_You're_ the muggle…"

When he didn't finish his sentence, Dudley scowled and poked him none too gently in the side. "I'm the muggle _what_?"

"Uh. Nothing. I… come on. Let me introduce you."

…

Later, Dudley wouldn't remember their whole conversation. He'd remember the shock on Bill's face when Harry tugged him over. He'd remember the conversation about magical people having soulmates (which, Harry and Ginny were actually soulmates, it wasn't just sappy nonsense like Dudley had thought), and he'd remember the spark when their hands met (Dudley stumbled over a twig and Bill caught him).

Harry took him home to his new flat in a second—and urgh, if that's how magical people always travelled then he was glad he wasn't magical—and he laid out on his bed, not even bothering to rid himself of his suit.

Soulmates?

What?

He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with that. He'd never thought about the prospect of only being able to love one person forever, of having a guarantee that a relationship would actually work.

In the back of his mind, he was already thinking about his parents' reaction and wondering if they'd be more angry that Bill was a man or a wizard, but that was another story entirely, and if he was struggling to deal with it himself then he wasn't even close to being able to tell them about it.

They'd parted with a promise that Bill would write, though if that letter would come by owl or post with many stamps, Dudley had no idea.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Dudley closed his eyes. Would his life ever be simple?

…

Letters began arriving, and to Dudley's relief (and slight disappointment: that envelope had been hilarious) they arrived by standard post with the correct stampage. While Dudley appreciated every one of them, and replied as soon as he could, it just wasn't… it wasn't what he wanted.

Bill was a curse breaker (what?) for the Wizard Bank, which meant he couldn't just up and leave Egypt just because he felt like it, and even Apparition (Dudley thought that Bill was just making words up at this point because wasn't an apparition a ghost?) wasn't doable cross-countries.

As much as Dudley enjoyed the letters, it wasn't… right.

He craved Bill, which was ridiculous, they'd had one conversation and Bill had been fairly certain that the soulmate thing wouldn't overly affect Dudley.

In the end, he lasted three months. It was two months longer than he thought he'd last.

…

"I still don't understand, Duddy! What on earth could there be in Egypt that makes you want to _live _there?" his mum asked, for the fourth time in the last hour. It was a conversation that had happened a lot in the last few weeks since he'd told his parents he was moving.

Admittedly, he'd expected the questions. It was uncharacteristic of him, and he knew it, but he just… he needed to be where Bill was.

He expected it to blow up in his face, if he was honest with himself, but he had to _try_.

"I like it there, Mum. I just… want something different in my life. I'm not saying I'll never come back but—"

"We could come with you?" she suggested, and Dudley almost choked on his tongue at the look on his father's face.

"No, Mum. I promise, even if I decide to stay out there for a while, I'll visit at Christmas, okay?"

"Christmas is _five months away_!" she shrieked, and oh no, now there were tears.

Dudley closed his eyes and pulled her into a hug, feeling his t-shirt shoulder dampen. "Mum, I need to do this. Be happy for me, please?"

She pulled back and he looked into her blue eyes, begging her to be happy for him. He didn't want her to worry, though he knew she would, but he'd hate to think of her being sad all of the time simply because he wasn't there.

"You really feel like you need to do this?" she asked, her usually sharp voice oddly soft.

"I really do, Mum."

…

They watched the sunrise together over the desert. Bill had taken him to the top of the Valley of the Kings, and they sat side by side, their pinkies linked together.

Dudley leant his head against Bill's shoulder.

It was perfect.

* * *

**Written for: **

Convince Me Competition - DudleyBill

Showtime - 1. Relocating to a new home.

Pop Figures - Agent Coulson - 1. Sunglasses / 3. Security /4. Blue

Mythology - 10. Beautiful

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Mad Tea Party Theme, 4. Wonderland Background - Nonsense

East Funfair - Petting Zoo - Bowtruckle - Twig / Peace / Sharp

South Funfair - Guess The Name - Bill - A Curse Breaker

365\. 274. Sunrise


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 355

* * *

**Never Forget **

* * *

Narcissa slammed into the house, Lucius following at a more sedate pace in her wake. She was so very angry, and he knew he was in trouble, although he didn't think he deserved it.

"I was defending you," he said, after he'd closed the door behind them.

"I am not a maiden in need of defending. I am grown!"

"You are my wife and it's my duty—"

"I can protect myself, Lucius," she snarled, before she moved to the stairs. Once more, he followed along behind her.

He wondered if he'd even be allowed in the bedroom that night. When displeased, Narcissa didn't mind showing exactly how she felt. It was part of the reason he loved her, she was the most fiery of women.

Surprised to find himself allowed into the bedroom, he stripped his clothes and moved towards the shower. When he was done cleaning himself, he re-entered the bedroom to find Narcissa sitting at her dressing table, a teacup on the dresser, brushing her hair.

The sight made him smile. It was so quintessentially Narcissa. She believed that tea could fix all problems.

Standing behind her, he bent to press his lips to her neck. "I'm sorry, my love. I just cannot stand the thought of you being hurt."

She chuckled. "If you believe those harpies could hurt me, then you do not know me as well as you should, Lucius."

He had to admit that that was probably true. Narcissa could play society on her worst day, but she was above every single one of those women. They could only wish to have as much class as Narcissa had in her little finger.

"Come to bed, love. Let me show you have enchanting I find you," he murmured, pressing more kisses to the back of her neck.

Despite her irritation with him, she leaned back into his touch.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear.

She turned and rolled her eyes at him. "I love you too… so long as you remember that I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

Lucius chuckled. "Oh, my dear. I won't ever forget again."

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 41. LuciusNarcissa

Attic - 16. "I am not a maiden in need of defending. I am grown!"

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Mad Tea Party - 3. Tea Set - Teacup

East Funfair - Wedding Chapel - Expected - LuciusNarcissa

South Funfair - Test Your Strength - Average - Lucius Malfoy

Mythology - 1. Narcissa Malfoy

365\. 164. Maiden


	67. Chapter 67

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 329

* * *

**The Greatest Gift (Of Grey Hair) **

* * *

"I know you were only trying to help, Son," Arthur said, patting Charlie's shoulder as he sat down beside them.

They were in the garden at the Burrow, Charlie's favourite place when he was home, although this time it wasn't exactly for happy reasons.

Charlie sighed and looked down. "Tell that to mum. She's never been this mad at me."

"Getting suspended from Hogwarts isn't… great, admittedly, but she'll come around. She's angry right now, but she still loves you."

"I didn't… I was…" Charlie sighed. "I know I should have gone to a teacher, I just…."

"More than angry, everyone is worried about you," Arthur said softly. "You put yourself in danger by trying to help that unicorn."

"She was a _baby, _Dad! Just a foal! I couldn't just leave her there!"

Arthur sighed. "I know son, but her mother could have really hurt you."

Charlie opened his mouth to argue back but then deflated. "Yeah, I know."

Nodding, Arthur wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders. "I know that you're determined to work with and help creatures, Son, but just for now, before you have the training you need, can you please be more careful?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I will. I'm sorry, Dad."

Arthur stood up and clapped his hand down on Charlie's shoulder. "Come on. Your mum might be mad, but she still made your favourite chocolate pudding, so why don't you come inside, hmm?"

Standing up, Charlie leant into his dad for a moment. "Thanks, Dad."

"Go and hug your mother and tell her that you're not going to turn her grey just yet, okay?"

Grinning, Charlie nodded and slipped through the doors back into the kitchen. Arthur looked up at the stars and rubbed a hand across his face.

Kids were the greatest gift he'd ever been given, and he wouldn't change them for the world… but they really were going to turn him and Molly grey before their time at this rate.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C1. Someone that gets in trouble, despite having the best intentions.

Showtime - 22. Father and child.

Pop Figure - Ron Weasley - 1. The Burrow / 4. Determined

North Funfair - Rat Race - Chocolate Pudding

East Funfair - Gnome Throwing - Arthur Weasley

South Funfair - Test Your Strength - Average - The Burrow

365\. 144. Garden


	68. Chapter 68

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 314

* * *

**On A Night Like This **

* * *

Fleur sat on the decking of the cottage she shared with her girlfriend, looking up at the stars. Dora was sitting down by the lake as she always was these days, as though she could find answers to the world's problems in the water.

Dora loved water, Fleur knew that, but she couldn't help but worry about her. Lately, her obsession had gotten worse, and Fleur often wasn't enough to tear her away from the lake edge. It had never been like that before.

With a sigh, she stood, thinking that it was worth one chance before she retired for the night. She walked along the little pathway, wincing when she stepped onto a stone because her slippers were only thin.

"Dora? Dora."

The pink haired woman turned and held her hand out to Fleur, smiling when she took it. This was good, it meant that Fleur had a good chance of getting Dora inside at a reasonable time tonight.

"Are you okay?" Dora asked, gazing up at her from where she was sitting on the grassy bank.

"I am ready to go to bed," Fleur admitted. "I wish you to come with me."

Dora nodded and looked back at the water for a moment before she pushed herself onto her feet.

"I know you've been putting up with a lot from me lately," Dora admitted, wrapping her arm around Fleur's waist. "And I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just… I don't know what to do and the water… it helps me think sometimes."

"I know," Fleur murmured, pressing a kiss to Dora's cheek. "I just worry about you."

"I'm sorry," Dora repeated, kissing her softly. "Let's go to bed. I don't know about you, but a cuddle sounds perfect right now."

Fleur smiled at her. It wasn't fixed, and their world was still at war but for tonight, it appeared she had her Dora back.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C2. Someone who loves water.

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Pop Diva 1. Bright wig : Nymphadora Tonks

East Funfair - Bingo - Femslash Board - TonksFleur

South Funfair - Guess The Name - Ronan - Watching The Stars

365\. 199. Obsession


	69. Chapter 69

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 484

* * *

**Duels Are Dumb **

* * *

To say it had been a rough day would be an understatement. James rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Tomorrow would likely be worse, since the letter from his parents would undoubtedly arrive, full of censure and disappointment.

James hated disappointing his dad; he'd much rather deal with rage because it dissipated faster.

His mum on the other hand… she would give him the rage he dreaded but knew he deserved. It was going to be awful.

"Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature?"

James blinked and looked around to see the Headmistress walking towards him. He stood quickly.

"Professor McGonagall," he murmured, respectfully.

She smiled at him and gestured for him to sit back down on the bench in the bleachers of the Quidditch Pitch.

"Are you not cold, Mr Potter?"

James shook his head. "Not really but… I love the cold. It reminds me of Christmas… my Dad loves Christmas."

Professor McGonagall's smile widened slightly and she nodded. "I remember. He spent many of his Christmasses in the castle when he was a student here, and he always seemed mesmerised by it. Particularly his first year."

James listened, rapt as he always was when the professors mentioned his parent's time in school. He loved to hear normal things about his dad especially; so many people were too happy to talk about Harry Potter, but James liked to head about just Harry.

"So, can we?" she asked, and he frowned slightly before he remembered her words as she approached him.

Nodding sheepishly, he replied, "Yes, Professor."

She nodded. "In your father's first year here, he had a midnight duel with another student. I believe he regretted it much the same as you do now, although the way I hear it, you weren't quite stupid enough to prearrange it?"

"No, Professor. I just… lost my temper."

"Of course. It does happen, James, although I hope next time, you will handle it better, yes?"

Swallowing hard, James nodded again.

She laid a red-gloved hand on his shoulder. "Come. It may be warm inside the castle, but I happen to have biscuits in my office. And there is someone there who'd like to see you."

Confused, James followed the headmistress into the castle and through the halls to her office. Once up the spiral staircase, his eyes widened when he saw his father, chatting happily with Professor Dumbledores' portrait.

"I hope you're not spreading gossip again, Albus," Professor McGonagall intoned, though even James could hear the humor in her voice.

He focused on his dad, who looked at him for a long moment before he opened his arms. "Come here, Son."

It wasn't until he was wrapped in a hug that James realised this was what he'd been needed. A hug from his dad and to be told that everything would be okay.

"It'll be okay, Son. We all make silly mistakes."

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - C7. Someone who loves the cold.

Showtime - 39. James Sirius Potter

Attic - 15. "Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature?"

Pop Figures - Peggy Carter - 1. Red. / 2. Minerva McGonagall

North Funfair - Photo Booth - Beauty and the Beast Theme - 4. Castle Background - Hogwarts.

East Funfair - Gnome Throwing - Minerva McGonagall

South Funfair - Pygmy Puff - Colette - Rage

365\. 243. Rough


	70. Chapter 70

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 304

* * *

**No Better Revenge **

* * *

It took months for her to look in a mirror without wincing. The scars Greyback had left behind were almost worse than if he'd merely bitten her and left her howling at the moon occasionally.

She'd always prided herself on her appearance, and while yes that made her vain, it had also made her confident. Sure of herself.

He'd destroyed that with one rake of his nails against her pale, delicate skin.

Her friends told her that it didn't matter. Seamus told her she was still beautiful. Lavender knew the truth… she was hideous. A monster.

…

Spending her days at Saint Mungo's helped her. She was there voluntarily, and she often attended the group therapy sessions. As she learned to deal with her new reality of people staring at her disfigurements, she learned, slowly, that many people had it much worse than she did.

She got on well with the nurses and slowly, she became friends with them, despite the marks on her face.

They still liked her.

…

"The food here is so bland," Seamus muttered, picking at the shepards pie he'd gotten for dinner. He hated hospital food, but he hated not seeing Lavender more, so he dealt with it.

For her.

She loved him for that.

Lavender chuckled and then, taking a deep breath, she said, "Maybe next week, we can go somewhere else?"

He blinked and then his face lit up and she knew it was worth it.

She still wasn't comfortable with the way people looked at her. She didn't think she ever would be but… she couldn't keep putting her life on hold.

It had happened, and she couldn't change that. Now it was time to move on, to accept herself as she was now, and live a good life.

There was no better revenge than that.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - S4. Someone learning to believe in or accept themselves.

Showtime - 40. St. Mungo's

North Funfair - Splash A Mod - Lo - Trio Era

East Funfair - Bingo - Setting Board - St Mungo's

South Funfair - Test Your Strength - Weakling - Trio Era

365\. 170. Bland


	71. Chapter 71

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 363

* * *

**broken (but not irreparably so)**

* * *

The world was celebrating the end of another war. Cornelius heard about the end of the battle at Hogwarts two days later, when it was finally announced on the wireless. He hadn't even known of the battle, though he wouldn't have gone even if he had.

At heart, Cornelius wasn't a fighter.

Wartime hadn't been kind to him. His once opulent home-life was gone along with his wife who couldn't handle his cowardice.

Now he was forced into living in a rundown cabin on the edge of a forest. Good for hiding, he supposed, which had been his intentions, but not so great for comfort.

He had a bed with a lumpy mattress, a chair held up by spindly legs that always wobbled and groaned, leaving him wondering if they would fall from beneath him at any moment. He'd never bothered to learn household charms, having always had an elf or someone else who would do the housework, and so the cabin had quickly fallen into disrepair. The floor was covered in dust and dirt, and although he _could _clean the place manually, he simply didn't have the motivation.

Nobody bothered to visit him, so what would be the point?

The only thing in the ramshackle cabin that was spotless was the plum hat that had once been his staple piece. It sat on a table in his bedroom, and he made sure to keep it clean and dust free in a way he didn't care to for the rest of the house.

Cornelius surveyed his house and then stepped outside. There was a stench from the outhouse, but he'd been living with it long enough to ignore it. Otherwise, the outside was beautiful, the forest lining a meadow that was filled with flowers.

It was almost enough to lift Cornelius' mood.

He thought one day, it could even make him happy. But not yet. Not today, and probably not tomorrow.

Cornelius was broken and he didn't know how to begin fixing the mess he had been left in.

Maybe, one day, he would be able to fix the cabin. To fix the outhouse. Maybe one day, he'd be able to fix himself.

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 32. Cornelius Fudge

North Funfair - Splash A Mod - Lizzy - Post-War

East Funfair - Petting Zoo - Bundimun - Stench / Spindly / Dirt

South Funfair - Pygmy Puff - Oralie - Plum

365\. 300. Broken


	72. Chapter 72

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 353

* * *

**Willing Servant**

* * *

Ginny woke up slowly, stretching languishly on the cotton sheets. She was surprised that Harry wasn't still in bed, he tended to lie in on the days he didn't have to work. Especially now that all of the kids were away at Hogwarts.

Before she could wonder too much where he was, the bedroom door swung open and he stepped inside carrying a tray.

"Morning, Sweetheart," he murmured, kicking the door shut behind him. "Happy Valentines day."

Ginny smiled, accepting the tray and a soft kiss from her husband. "Harry Potter, you immeasurable sap."

He chuckled. "I am but your willing servant today. It's been a while since we've had a Valentines off together."

On the tray, there was poached egg on toast, Ginny's favourite breakfast and a single rose in a vase, along with coffee and orange juice.

"Where's yours?" she asked, balancing the tray on her legs.

"Downstairs. I'll go get it."

…

After a lazy breakfast in bed, the two of them snuggled up for a while, talking softly about nothing important.

"Was there anything you wanted to do today?" Harry asked, when they finally left their bedroom.

Ginny shook her head. "Not really."

"I have a table booked for eight, but until then, we can have a wander around Muggle London if you want?"

She grinned. Harry didn't often agree to go shopping with her, choosing instead to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over her purchases after the fact to enjoy the crowds, so his offer meant a lot to her. She nodded.

"That sounds great. I promise I won't drag you into too many shops."

He just smiled at her fondly and left the bedroom.

…

The restaurant was beautiful, and just when she believed the day couldn't get any better, Harry pushed a flat box across the table towards her.

She opened it to find a beautiful bracelet inside. Gold, with diamonds dotted in between infinity symbols.

"Harry, it's gorgeous," she gasped, running a reverent finger over the metal. "I love it."

Harry smiled. "I love you. Happy Valentines Day, Gin."

"Happy Valentines Day, Harry. I love you too."

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - B2. Ginny Weasley

North Funfair - Splash a Mod - Bex - Harry Potter

East Funfair - Gnome Throwing - Harry Potter

South Funfair - Guess the Name - Amelia - Valentines Day

365\. 322. Servant


	73. Chapter 73

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for Pinata: Canon **

**Word count - 309**

* * *

**A Sunrise On A New Day**

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked quietly, sitting down on the step beside Hermione.

She was sitting on the steps leading to the castle, her elbows balancing on her knees. He'd been looking for her for a while, and he felt something inside himself relax now that he finally had his eyes on her.

She shrugged and shifted to rest her head on his shoulder. "Tired. Sore. I'm still not sure if I believe it's really over. How are you?"

Ron wrapped his arm around her back. "I don't know. I still… Fred and… mum is…" he shook his head, unable to complete a single thought. It was hard to think about the last few days; in a strange way, it almost felt like a nightmare that he hadn't yet woken up from.

He understood how Hermione was feeling, he was a little scared to believe that it was real, that it was over.

"Have you seen Harry?" She asked then, leaning heavily against him.

"For a minute. He's… he'll be okay, you know? I think he just... needs a minute to turn off battle mode. Same as the rest of us."

She nodded and for a few moments, they sat in silence, watching the sun rise over the forest.

"Can we just… for now, can we just go inside and cuddle? I just… I need a cuddle and to not think for a while,"

Ron smiled and turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. "Sure we can."

He stood, pulling her with him, and wrapped his arm back around her shoulders. They walked into the castle together, and despite the pain of the last year, despite the heartache, and the danger, and the uncertainty, for the moment, they were each content with their place in the world.

So long as it was with each other.


	74. Chapter 74

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 401

_Warning - mentioned child abuse. _

* * *

**Kiss It Better? **

* * *

Dudley grew up, wondering why he was always getting bruises out of nowhere. His mum fretted over him constantly, but she never told him why.

It wasn't until he was ten, when he heard the other kids talking in the school yard.

Amy Shumer was parading around with a bruised arm, showing it to everyone who would stop and look, as she declared that she was getting her soulmate's injuries.

The other kids oohed and ahhed over her, and Dudley could only watch on with confusion. Did that mean he had a soulmate?

And if he did… why did his soulmate have so many bruises?

…

He met Piers when Piers transferred into his primary school. He was a quiet kid, but there was something about him that Dudley liked. He'd watched from the sidelines as Gordon and Malcolm shook him down, but Piers had ignored them.

Stood there and took their abuse as though they were talking about kittens. As though he was unshakable.

It didn't take long for Piers to become Dudley's best friend.

…

"What's that?" Dudley asked, catching a glimpse of yellow and green on Pier's chest as the two of them got changed after Gym class. They'd snagged a quiet corner, the same way they always did, and usually they stood back to back.

"Nothing," Piers muttered, as he pulled his t shirt down to cover his torso. Dudley was quicker though—his boxing lessons paying off—and he caught the hem of Pier's shirt and lifted it. His entire left side was covered in bruises, varying in colour and darkness.

"It's nothing," Piers insisted, pulling his shirt down again. Dudley allowed it, letting go of the shirt to tug his own up. On his left side, a smattering of bruises in different colour and darkness made Piers' eyes go wide.

"Oh."

…

"It's weird, not getting bruises from you anymore," Dudley murmured, stroking his hand through Pier's hair. "I can't say I'm mad about it though."

Piers smiled up at him. He'd been living with his cousin, Max, for long enough now that his many bruises had healed up, leaving clear skin in its wake.

"I've got one from you," Piers muttered, lifting his shirt to show a healing bruise on his right ribs, a left over from a particularly hard jab in Dudley's last boxing match. "Kiss it better?"

Dudley grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 4 - You feel everything your soulmate feels.

Romance Awareness, Extra Prompt - 32. Confusion

Pinata - Hard - A Canon Muggle

Pairing The Character - DudleyPiers


	75. Chapter 75

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count - **520

**Warnings - **Brief mention of suicidal thoughts

* * *

**A Joke Without A Punchline **

* * *

He'd tried to soak in the bath, but he couldn't relax. It wasn't new, but it frustrated him nonetheless. He couldn't settle to anything these days. Washing himself off quickly, George climbed out of the bathtub and used his wand to dry off, too impatient to do it manually, even if the magic made his skin itch.

He didn't really know why he'd rushed, it wasn't like he was going anywhere, or seeing anyone, or… anything.

With Fred gone…

He left the bathroom and avoided his bedroom, padding almost silently down the carpeted stairs. Thankfully, his mother had decided to have an early night, and he wouldn't be forced to put on a brave face for her. It hurt him to smile and pretend like he was okay when he was fairly sure he'd never be okay again.

He just couldn't bring himself to let her know that.

She was suffering too, he had to remind himself. She'd lost a son, in the same way George had lost his twin.

While George was perfectly willing, and in fact wished, to let his grief master him, encompass him entirely, his mum was forcing herself and the rest of them with her to go about life as though it hadn't ended with Fred.

He understood, or at least, he thought he did.

She had a husband, other children too, she had more people to focus on. She cleaned and cooked and kept herself busy because it was the way she always dealt with things but George didn't have any of that.

Everything he did, even looking in the mirror, reminded him of Fred.

The curse of spending all of their time together, George supposed bitterly, as he entered the kitchen, was that without Fred there to guide him, George didn't know who he was.

He'd never been alone and now he was, he was floundering.

It was dark outside, nighttime had truly fallen, but George slipped out of the backdoor anyway. He sat on the bench by the pond, balancing on the edge of it, because it wasn't sturdy and he didn't want to break it and the noise to bring people.

He didn't think he had it in him to pretend in that moment.

It was a month. A whole month of being alone. He hated every single second of it, but he'd made it. He didn't know how he was supposed to make it another month. A year. A decade.

Who was he, without Fred at his side.

Even their jokes had been told together, one of them telling the joke, the other with the punchline. That was all that was left of George.

A joke without a punchline.

He'd thought of stopping. Of just… not being anymore, because with one of them gone, would anyone really realise the other had gone too, but he wouldn't do that to their mother.

She'd notice.

He wondered if she'd be the only one who did.

Footsteps sounded behind him, but he didn't look around. As soon as he was joined on the bench, he knew it was his oldest brother.

Bill didn't say anything. He didn't need too.

As soon as tears started pouring down George's face, Bill tugged him close and he held him there and let him sob, and he stroked a gently hand up and down his back.

When there were no more tears, Bill didn't leave. They sat for hours, until the sun came up and then they sat some more. Percy joined them, and then Charlie, and Ron and Ginny, and finally their parents.

Never once did anyone speak. They didn't need too.

The bench was sturdier than George thought. Perhaps… perhaps he was, too.

* * *

**Written for: **

Hogwarts Olympics - Ice Hockey / Gold - Contains no dialogue / 5. Nighttime

Galleon - 4. The Burrow

365 - 161. Soak


	76. Chapter 76

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 581

**Warning** \- self recrimination/guilt/mentioned character death

* * *

**Devastation Only He Knew **

* * *

The wizarding world at large was devastated, but it was still the personal losses that cut the deepest. Each death was a wound that wouldn't heal as easily as a physical injury, and waking every day was like rubbing salt into each one.

The questions of why he lived when others gave their lives; or rather, when others lives were stolen from them by a power hungry megalomaniac.

Harry's own devastation was quiet. It was Fred, and Remus and Lupin, and it was still Sirius, and his mum and his dad, and it was everyone in between.

It was Colin, who was too young to fight and too young to die. It was Lavender, who while still alive, was irreparably changed. It was Dean, left blind, and Hannah, brain addled to the point of no return by a cruel Death Eater that chose torture over death.

Harry had never asked for perfect, had never wanted a garden of eden, but this…

He wondered if it was worth the price.

…

His hand ached as he dropped his quill to the desk in front of him. He'd hand written letters to every single family of the victims of the final battle, and still, it didn't feel enough. There was no recognition for those who'd fallen before the 'grandest battle in wizarding Britain's history'.

He hated to even reference the title in his mind because it wasn't the grandest battle; it was a battle that should never have happened.

It was a battle forced by adults and fought by children.

The funerals had been taking place for days, and Harry had almost forgotten what colour looked like. When he thought back on them, all he could see was a sea of black and crystallised tears.

For many of them, Ron and Hermione had stood by his side as they had for so many years, and even there, Harry felt a disconnect.

They were devastated too, but they had each other.

…

Being alone in pain, was better than being in pain in company. At least Harry thought so. The pitying looks, the sympathy and empathy, it drove him mad.

Yes, other people had lost. He knew that, and he understood they suffered as much, if not more, than he did.

He knew that.

But his pain was different.

It was different because other's pain was clean. It was the pain of losing a loved one and being devastated.  
For Harry, it was dirtied by guilt. For Harry, it was the pain of losing loved ones, and young ones, and old ones… it was the pain of knowing that all of those lives were lost because of _him. _

Nobody could understand that pain.

Because he was the only one left to blame.

…

They told him that it wasn't his fault. His friends tried to force the sentiment on him, because it was Voldemort's fault, and those that followed him.

Harry knew that, and he agreed with it. It _was _Voldemort's fault, and the Death Eater's fault, and it was Dumbledore's fault, and probably the Order's, and the Ministry's and many others.

The war couldn't be laid on Harry's shoulders.

That was true.

But that battle, that _grand _battle that ended the war and cost so many lives… that was Harry's fault.

He led the way, and he stood his ground.

And that lay on his, and only his, shoulders.

And that was a devastation that he'd know for the rest of his life.

* * *

**Written for: **

Hogwarts Olympics, Ice Hockey / Gold - contains no dialogue / 1. Devastated

Galleon - 9. Quill

365\. 166. Eden


	77. Chapter 77

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 416

**Warning** \- mentions of suicide, sort of, and alcohol abuse.

* * *

**Praying For Spring To Come **

* * *

The winter had come in fierce, fiercer than usual in fact.

Wind howled through the trees, blowing harshly at buildings barely able to withstand the abuse. Rain and sleet and snow and hail fell intermittently, soaking through layers of clothing, turning once green fields into muddy marshes. Ice coated the roads and froze the lakes, cars sliding as they tried to make their way home to their families.

Draco loved the winter usually. He ice-skated on the lake that took up half of the Manor grounds, enjoyed hot chocolate delivered to him by the house-elves that controlled the kitchen, wrapped up warm and flew through the flurries of snow that swirled and twirled through the sky.

While most people he knew loved to frolic in the summer instead, Draco had always preferred the ice and cold of winter.

And yet…

This year, he prayed for spring. He prayed for sunshine lighting the rooms of the baron Manor he'd once loved to call home. He prayed for the pastel shades of blue and green and yellow and orange to coat the gardens in blooming flowers. He prayed for birdsong, if only to pierce through the endless silence that surrounded his home.

He was alone now, and it had taken that to make him realise that the best thing about winter had always been the company.

His mother joining him for hot chocolate, sitting by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree in the parlour, conversations low and intimate.

His father, on the occasions he could get away from his work, flying in the snow with him, smiling freely in a way he never did at other times of the year.

His friends visiting over the holidays, ice-skating on the lake with him, each of them trying to out-do the others with tricks and turns and twirls and jumps.

None of it mattered now that he was alone.

Now, he sat at the window in the darkness, a worn scarf around his neck, and gloves that had seen better days covering his hands. His now ever present flask was either in his lap or on the windowsill, depending on the time of day and how drunk he was.

Now, he stayed alone, his parents imprisoned and his friends gone, either joining his parents in Azkaban or abandoning him in order to save their own reputations, what little any of them had left.

Now, he stayed alone, and prayed for spring, all the while wondering if he'd even make it there.

* * *

**Written for: **

Space - 5. Flask

Hogwarts Olympics - Ice Hockey / Gold - Contains no dialogue / 2. Season: Winter

Galleon Club - 19. Fierce

365\. 159. Frolic


	78. Chapter 78

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 469

**Warning **\- Character Death

* * *

**Too Late To Matter **

* * *

His hands were freezing. He rubbed them together and blew air into them, trying to warm them up. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, given his location and current plans.

The cave was damp and dark and it sent tingles up his spine because he shouldn't be there. He knew he shouldn't and yet, he climbed into the little boat and directed it to take him to the tiny island in the middle of the cave.

On it, was a bowl, filled with a liquid that he knew was in fact a potion.

Kreacher watched him with anxiety filled eyes, reaching for the potion when Regulus scooped the first mouthful. Ignoring the elf, Regulus took the first gulp and shuddered, forcing himself to take another, and another and another. When he fell to his knees, Kreacher took over with shaking, long fingered hands, forcing more of the potion down his throat.

In his mind, Regulus watched as Sirius walked out of the house, leaving him alone. He saw his mother cackling as she blasted his first born from the family tapestry and he heard his father asking him why he wasn't as clever as Sirius had been.

He felt the Dark Mark being burned into his arm, heard the Death Eaters jeering at him for his lack of strength, his lack of courage, his chastity, his innocence, his everything.

Every single mistake, every regret, replayed in his mind and he just wanted it to stop.

Finally, Kreacher stopped feeding him the vicious liquid, and Regulus pulled himself across the ground, sure that he was leaving a trail of blood behind as his hands snagged and grazed on the rocks. He needed water, he was so thirsty.

He pulled himself to the edge and scooped water with his hands. The liquid was heavenly for a moment, until cold hands gripped at his wrist. He opened his eyes to see an animated corpse staring back at him with sightless eyes and before he could fight back, he was being pulled into the water.

He struggled against the hold, but they were strong and many. Everywhere, his arms, his legs, his torso, his _neck, _he could feel the cold hands everywhere.

They pulled him beneath the surface before he could even take a breath and they held him there, determined to keep him there with him, a victim of victims before him.

He'd heard drowning was a pleasant way to die, but this wasn't pleasant. This was cruel, and it was harsh and it was worse than he'd ever expected.

But it was necessary. He could only hope that one day, his death would be meaningful.

He could only hope that one day, Sirius would know that Regulus followed his path; even if it was too late to matter.

* * *

**Written for: **

Space - 4. Drowning

Scamander - 11. Corpse

Hogwarts Olympics - Ice Hockey / Gold - Contains no dialogue / 3. Cold Hands

Galleon - 24. Trail

365\. 154. Chastity


	79. Chapter 79

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count - **509

**Warnings - **Character Death

* * *

**Until Next Time **

* * *

_Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it - Haruki Marukami _

He was orphaned before he could talk. It's a fact of Harry's life that he's learned to deal with, but there's a pain inside him that will never go away. The death of his parents changed the course of his life in ways he probably didn't understand, even as an adult.

How different would he be, if only he'd had a happy childhood?

He watched his friend die at the hands of one he'd saved when he was only fourteen years old. Cedric's death had been needless and made worse because of it. How different would the world be, if only Harry hadn't told him to take the cup with him?

His godfather, his chance of knowing a life with a caring guardian, was stolen from him by a vindictive witch with a lifelong family grudge and his own stupidity. Would he have been able to live with Sirius, if he'd only remembered the two way mirror?

The death of Hedwig, his first real friend and his faithful pet, was cast aside in the light of the battle where Mad-Eye had also been lost, but Harry grieved her alone in bed that night, his tears of sorrow for her sinking silently into his pillow. Would she have waited at the Burrow for him, had she survived?

Too many lives were lost at the Battle of Hogwarts to focus on just one, but Harry felt each one singularly and painfully. Would the world miss Colin, or Fred or Remus or Tonks? Their families certainly would.

George would always know the loss of his twin, Dennis his big brother who protected him and cared for him and loved him.

Teddy… he'd feel the loss of both of his parents. He'd know the same pain Harry did, although if nothing else, Harry would ensure he had a happy life that Harry missed out on.

Through all of that loss, all of that pain, Harry wasn't prepared to become the master of it. He wasn't prepared to meet the cloaked reaper.

He'd thought he'd be ready, had in fact faced death before without flinching, and yet, when it came to him, he realised he'd never been ready.

From the moment he united the Hallows, Death followed him. From the corner of Harry's eyes, he would see the cloaked figure hovering near, would see the glint of silver that meant the scythe was about to fall.

Death never spoke to him, nor did Harry try, but he was ever present in his life. Through springs and winters, summers and autumns, as life carried on, so did Death.

Even as he mastered it, Harry fell victim to it, and eventually, replaced it. The Hallows scattered and Harry picked up the scythe.

This had been the cost, all those years before, and it would be his price to pay until the next time. For all that he knew it would be a while, he knew that there _would be _a next person to unite the Hallows.

Until then, Harry would linger.

And life would go on.

_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life; it goes on - Robert Frost _

* * *

**Written for: **

Scamander's Case - 19. Death is not the opposite of life but a part of it - Haruki Marukami

Hogwarts Olympics - Ice Hockey / Gold - Contains no dialogue / 4. Death

Galleon - 23. In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life; it goes on - Robert Frost

365 - 223. Sorrow


	80. Chapter 80

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 526

* * *

**In Dreams **

* * *

He fell asleep almost immediately. Quidditch practice had been hard, though he was happy with the team's form. They had a marvellous chance of beating Ravenclaw for the last match of the season, and James was so determined to finish his school career as Captain of the winning Quidditch squad.

He was pretty sure that the team hated him at this point, but it would be worth it in the end.

As he sunk into sleep, his dream seemed oddly sharp, certainly sharper than usual.

"Potter?" He turned and found Evans looking at him, her head tilted to the side, her confusion evident. "What the hell are you doing in my dream?"

James blinked. "You mean, why are _you _in _my _dream?"

Admittedly, James dreamt about Lily quite often, but she was usually just a little bit more ethereal. Softer, perhaps. Honestly, this was preferable, since she was exactly as she was when he was awake, and she'd never needed to be more or less for him to love her.

Suddenly, it struck him that he knew what this was, and he felt his lips spread into a smile.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"You just turned seventeen, didn't you?" he asked, taking a step towards her. They were in a white… something. There was nothing else around, just white, and them.

"Yes."

"It the soul dream. I've been waiting for it; the only reason I didn't have it on my own seventeenth was because you weren't there yet."

"Soul dream?"

James opened his mouth and then closed it again. If he wouldn't look like such an idiot, he'd facepalm; he'd forgotten she was Muggleborn.

Grinning at her cheekily, he said, "Something for you to look up in the library tomorrow, Evans."

…

James was practically vibrating in his seat at the dinner table the following day. He hadn't seen Lily all day, and until she acknowledged the dream, he didn't want to say anything to his friends. Sirius had been bugging him about his good mood the whole day through, and there was only so many times he could pass it off as excitement for the upcoming Quidditch game.

That was still almost a fortnight away.

Looking up, he caught sight of familiar, fiery red hair, and he watched Lily as she walked into the hall, flanked by Alice and Marlene, her head down.

She sat at the opposite end of the table from him, and slowly, his heart sank because… well. He'd known that she wasn't a huge fan of his, but he'd hoped that them being soulmates would at least encourage her to give him a chance to show her that he could be good to her.

Just as he was about to make his excuses and leave the hall, she looked up and met his eyes. Her own sparkling green ones seemed hesitant but accepting, and he watched, entranced, as she blushed prettily.

His head tilted to the side in question and she nodded, before she turned back to her friends.

That… that was good enough for him.

He was going to _wow _her. Nothing less would do.

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness - Day 10. You meet your soulmate in your dreams

Romance Awareness, Extra - 18. Ethereal

Galleon Club - JamesLily

365\. 165. Marvellous


	81. Chapter 81

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 1037

* * *

**Together **

* * *

Remus stared at the door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for a long moment and then Apparated away. Of all the things he could have possibly expected when he came face to face with Harry, that wasn't even on the list.

Why didn't anyone understand that he shouldn't be around the child growing in Dora's stomach? He'd already ruined the child's life just be existing, he shouldn't stick around and make it all so much worse.

He'd never pretended he was a saint, but he was better than that.

With nowhere to go, and nobody to turn too, Remus walked the streets of Muggle London. He couldn't go home—he wasn't even sure he had one anymore—and he couldn't face the possibility of others having the same reaction as Harry had, so he stayed alone.

It was the best place for him anyway.

…

"Remus. Remus!"

Remus opened his eyes, wincing at the light. He blinked until he could stand the brightness, and then squinted up at the familiar face.

"Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in. I'm still a pile of garbage," he muttered, turning away from her.

Andromeda sighed, and Remus knew that she was rolling her eyes at him. Not that he blamed her really, but he was admittedly still sore at the way she'd spoken to him the last time they'd seen each other.

Then again, he'd just walked out on her daughter, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that she'd had the right to be angry with him.

"Dora needs you," Andromeda said. "They both do, and I don't have time for you to be sitting here, having a pity party on a park bench."

Remus huffed and shook his head. "You don't think I know that I've already doomed them both?"

"Oh dear Merlin," she muttered, shaking her head. "You know, Remus, from the way Sirius talked about you, I didn't think I had too much to worry about when you and my Dora got together. He said you were loyal, caring, kind. He said you were braver than most people he knew. He told me that you thought family was the most important thing. All you're doing right now is proving him a liar."

Remus opened his mouth, but before he could try and find the words to defend himself, he heard the crack of Apparition as she left him alone. Admittedly, he didn't have any words to defend against hers, so it was probably for the best.

He'd have only proved how much of a coward he was to her.

…

Her bump was visible. That was the first thing that Remus thought when she opened the door to him, keeping it tight against her so he couldn't just walk in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Dora."

She stared at him for a long moment before she stepped back, opening the door wider. "Come in."

He stepped into the home they'd once shared and shivered. It was warm inside, a vast contrast to the night air he'd come from, but the warmth seemed to wash over and around him, never touching him.

Dora nodded to the kitchen, and when they were both in there, she set about making tea. He watched her, unable to take his eyes off the small bump that held _their _child safe.

His child.

And he'd walked out.

"Are you ready to actually talk about this?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him as she handed him a large mug of tea.

He wrapped his hands around it and nodded mutely. She sat down at the breakfast bar.

"You ran away," she said. "You're scared and I get that. You think I'm not? But I can't run away, Remus. I have no choice but to stay and deal with this. You left me alone."

Remus swallowed hard. "I know I messed up, and I can't apologise enough for it; but I am _so _sorry. I was a coward, and I… I don't expect a second chance. I really don't. I just… I want you back in my life, Dora. Even if it's not—"

"You're my husband," she interrupted. "For better or worse. I meant my vows when I said them, Remus, and I still mean them now. You have got to stop thinking that you're in this on your own, when you're not! You have a wife, we're going to have a child! You have a family! It's time to grow up and accept that you're a werewolf and _it's not your defining feature." _

Remus stared at her because it wasn't often that she lost her temper with him. He knew he deserved it, but it still shocked him to see her hands trembling around her mug.

He'd done that.

She was upset because of him.

Like the straw that broke the camel's back, Remus' control snapped, and he cried. He cried for himself, for Dora, for their unborn child. He cried for Sirius, and James and Lily. He cried for Harry, who was facing untold danger. He cried for the life he could have had and the life he wished for.

He was inconsolable, and for the first time since they'd known each other, Dora didn't try and comfort him.

She watched him with sad eyes as he shook with remorse and guilt and sadness and grief. As he let go of everything he'd been holding for so many years.

…

"Feeling a little better?" Dora asked, a few hours later.

Remus had showered and changed into clean clothes, and was standing by the backdoor, his eyes on the dark sky. He nodded, turning to look at her.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded. "I know. We'll get through this, Remus. It's what couples do. They overcome difficulties and work together to make things work. Nobody ever said marriage was going to be a walk in the park, did they?"

"No, I suppose they didn't. But… family is important. I think I lost sight of that for a while. I'm going to do better, I promise."

"All I ask is that you don't run away again," she murmured, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder. "Whatever comes… we'll meet it together, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

**Written for: **

Assorted Appreciation - 6. Harvey - Loyal / Remus / "I want you back in my life, [Name]."

Disney - T3. The Importance of Family

Trope - 3. Someone overcoming a difficulty

Attic - 26. "Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in. I'm still a pile of garbage."

Liza Loves - 12. Write about fixing something

Film Festival - 10. Second Chance

Galleon - 39. Tea

House Unity - GvsH - Inconsolable / Remus Lupin

365\. 181. Saint


	82. Chapter 82

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 500

* * *

**Definitely A Keeper **

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was full to bursting, and fighting his way through the crowd was definitely not easy, but Oliver loved it. This was the kind of atmosphere that made him love Quidditch, and made him feel like he was the luckiest man ever to play it for a living.

Usually, they'd stick to the team venue after matches, but this time it had been a charity match and there were players from all around the country, so they'd decided on a more central location for the after party.

As Oliver almost reached the bar, he was jostled from the left and he automatically held his hands up to keep the other person on their feet.

"Whoever threw that paper, your mum's a hoe!" a familiar voice shouted and Oliver turned his head to see Marcus Flint at his side. He hadn't seen Marcus since the Battle of Hogwarts, where they'd worked together high above the Quidditch Pitch to hold of Voldemort's forces.

"Oh, hey, Wood," he greeted when he saw Oliver looking at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to run into you quite so literally, my teammates are assholes."

Oliver snorted. "No problem."

They moved to seperate, only to find their hands joined together. Oliver frowned and tried to pull away, and then blinked when he found he couldn't. Marcus was looking just as confused and then his eyes widened in understanding.

"This is the first time I've seen you since we both hit twenty one," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Understanding dawned on Oliver and his mouth fell open in shock. "Really? Really? Soulmates?"

Marcus snorted. "Apparently."

…

There were so many jokes. Marcus was being constantly told that Oliver was definitely a _keeper_, and Oliver was asked if Marcus had _chased _him down; it was _embarrassing_.

Quidditch Players were clearly the least imaginative people on the planet.

At least they'd only be stuck together for twenty four hours. It wasn't too bad, and thankfully neither of them had practice the following day.

So, with a shrug of acceptance, they did the only thing that made sense. They got absolutely hammered.

It was a riot.

…

"Why do I have a galleon stuck to my head?" Oliver asked, groaning when he opened his eyes to the bright sunlight streaming through the window. "And why do I feel like death?"

"I think both things have something to do with tequila," Marcus replied. "All I remember is opening the tequila bottle."

"Mistake."

"Huge one," Marcus agreed. "If I stay awake, I'm going to vomit."

Oliver grimaced and rearranged them into a more comfortable position, their joined hands resting on his chest.

"Go back to sleep. We'll go get food when it's not so bright outside. We'll talk then."

"Good plan."

Marcus closed his eyes and pressed his face against Oliver's shoulder.

Oddly, no matter how hungover he was, Oliver didn't think it was a bad thing. In fact, he thought that maybe he could get used to it.

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance awareness, Day 14 - When you meet your soulmate, you're literally stuck together for the rest of the day.

Romance Awareness, Extra - 30. The Leaky Cauldron

Showtime - 11. A Pub

Amber's Attic - 20. "Whoever threw that paper, your mum's a hoe."

Galleon - 37. Galleon

365\. 211. Riot

1000\. 279. Marcus/Oliver


	83. Chapter 83

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word count **\- 1318

* * *

**Perfect Moments **

* * *

He was taking a risk and he knew it, but they didn't have a choice. Abe was doing amazing at getting food to them, but sometimes, it wasn't enough. The more the number of people in the Room of Requirement grew, the less food they each got when they shared it out.

Neville had voted himself to try and subsidise their diets from the Kitchens.

He slid through the dark corridors, his footsteps almost silent. At every junction or doorway, his heart jumped hard in his chest, and he wondered for a moment if he'd even make it to the kitchens before his heart gave up. He hated that he was so scared to walk the corridors of a place he'd considered his home.

He finally made it to the kitchen and slipped through the portrait hole, freezing when he saw the kitchen was already occupied.

Daphne Greengrass quirked her eyebrow at him. "We were taking bets on if you were still alive. You just won me ten galleons."

Neville blinked at her. He knew those words. He stared at those words nightly, wondering who would say them to him, and if he'd actually live long enough to hear them.

Too often, stories of vibrant silver words losing their colour as soulmates lost their lives were being whispered about. He'd hate to do that to someone.

And yet, he knew now that if he looked at the elegant scrawl on his arm, it would be the stunning gold of a soulmate met.

"Thanks for the concern," he replied dryly, and he watched understanding dawn on her face.

"Unexpected," she murmured, absently stroking her arm over her robe, as though she could feel the words change colour. "But… I'm not mad."

Neville's lips lifted in a small smile. Unexpected was a good word, he thought. He wanted nothing more than to sit beside her at the table and while away the hours with her, but he had a mission and he couldn't let his team, his _family _down.

He spoke to one of the elves quickly, and though they appeared nervous, they nodded and started filling the spelled bag he'd brought with him.

"Hungry?" Daphne asked, watching the elves with interest.

"I've got a lot of mouths to feed," Neville replied quietly.

"I can imagine. Classes are getting quieter every day."

Neville nodded and sighed, running a hand through his short hair. He wanted to ask her to come with him, to join them in the Room of Requirement, but he didn't know if he should. If he even could. He didn't have the first clue where her loyalties lay.

"Are you safe?" he asked instead, his head tilting to the side.

"As any of us are," she said, her brow furrowing. "I keep my head down and my mouth shut, and it keeps me out of trouble. I don't have a choice; Astoria is too young to be put into any kind of danger if I can avoid it."

The elves handed him the filled bag, and Neville checked his watch, wincing at the time. He really had to get back, he couldn't afford the others getting worried and trying to find him.

"I have to go," he said, apologetically. "But… if you need help…"

"I have plenty enough cunning to get by, Neville," Daphne said softly. "When this is all over… maybe I can be selfish then."

Neville smiled. "I look forward to it."

…

Neville flipped through the newspaper absently. He knew Seamus had already gone through it looking for news that would mean something to any of them, but it had been beautifully empty of anything serious for a change. It was a rare day that _nothing _happened, and each morning, the nervous nausea raised its ugly head until they were given the all clear.

A commotion at the door drew Neville's attention and he had his wand in his hand before he'd even fully cleared his seat.

Luna entered the Room of Requirement, hustling two figures with her, and it took Neville a moment to realise that Daphne was one of them, holding up a smaller figure.

"Daphne?" he asked, stepping forwards towards her.

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears and her eyes a blaze of anger.

"They hurt her because she couldn't cast the Cruciatus," she snarled, helping the smaller girl onto the table. Only then did he realise it was Astoria, and Daphne's anger made all the more sense. "I wasn't sure where to go with her, but Lovegood found us and brought us here. It's… it's okay, right?"

"Of course it is," Neville replied, running a critical eye over Astoria. She seemed okay, if shaken. There was a cut running down the side of her face, but it didn't seem too deep.

"Seamus?" he asked, turning to look at his friend. "Can you heal her?"

Seamus nodded cautiously. "Are you sure we can—" he cut himself off awkwardly, but Neville saw the way his eyes slid to the green and silver ties still wrapped around their necks.

Neville nodded. "I'm sure."

He slid his jumper up enough to show Seamus the gold of his words, and Seamus' eyes widened in understanding before he nodded more certainly.

Stepping closer, Seamus drew his wand. Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, but Neville shook his head. "He's good at this," he promised her. "He's the reason I'm not full of scars already."

She stared at him for a moment, and Neville knew she was looking at some of the unhealed cuts and bruises. Neville rolled his eyes. "These are nothing. Trust me, I've had much worse. A lot of us have."

Daphne seemed to wilt, and she shook her head. "I don't understand what they're gaining from this," she admitted. "I thought Astoria would be safe. She's pureblooded, and she's quiet. She doesn't cause trouble."

"They like the ones that cause trouble," Lavender said, from her own bed where she was sitting with Parvati and Padma, a scroll of parchment between them. "It gives them an excuse to be cruel. Not that they really need one."

"Well, I guess we better hope that Potter can fulfill his destiny then," Daphne muttered. "Or we're all fucked."

Neville snorted, but his smile was genuine. "Harry can do it. Have a little faith."

…

"I can't believe it's over," Daphne said, leaning her head against Neville's shoulder.

Neville nodded. "I know. Seems unreal."

"You're unreal. I swear to god, Neville, if you ever scare me like that again, I'll be the one killing you! Standing up to _him _like that, what on earth were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that I don't like bullies," Neville replied, quiet but strong. "And I was thinking that I wanted to help make a world that was safe for you to live in."

She sighed and leant against him even heavier. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the jolt of pain the movement caused.

"You owe me a date," Daphne said then, her voice muffled against his chest. "Killing monster snakes is impressive, but I'm a simple girl at heart. I prefer candlelight and roses."

"I'll save the big gestures for anniversaries, shall I?" Neville asked, chuckling.

He was so tired, but just for a moment, he wanted to enjoy this moment with his girl.

She snorted. "I don't think I appreciate your big gestures, Longbottom. They bring me too close to grey hair for comfort."

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "There are spells for that."

The slap to his thigh was definitely worth the tired giggle she let out, and Neville smiled. The world wasn't going to be perfect, he wasn't an idiot. Perfect didn't exist.

Perfect moments did though, and he looked forward to creating many more of them with Daphne.

For now though, he was happy to live in this one.

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 16: Born with words on your arm which are the first words you soulmate says to you.

Romance Awareness, Extra: 45. Risk Taking

Galleon: 11. NevilleDaphne

365\. 176. Cunning

1000: 359. Reading a newspaper.


	84. Chapter 84

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 404

* * *

**Not Quite **

* * *

She kept a close eye on her word counter. She'd known going into this that it would be tight, but she hadn't realised that it would get quite so low.

With her soulmate unavailable to her to recharge her word allowance, Hermione had taken to writing a lot of things down. Ron and Harry had been patient with her, and she was more grateful for them that she could ever say.

They often professed that they had little choice but to be patient, because they'd be long dead without her wisdom. She was glad that laughing didn't take away her allowance, or she'd have been in a lot more trouble.

They made Fred's absence easier to deal with.

Of course, the two of them could recharge each other, so talking wasn't a problem for them. They were attached at the hip more often than not.

She handed Harry a note, her hand writing horribly shaky. She figured she could be forgiven for that, since they were riding on a dragon and she'd written it with the parchment against Ron's back to lean on.

He read the note and passed the message onto Ron, and the three of them prepared to jump into the water. Hermione was so ready to be done, and back in Fred's arms, where she belonged.

…

The castle was a mess. Rubble covered the ground, and the dust in the air clogged her lungs. They were so close to being done, but she hadn't found Fred yet, beyond a brief glimpse of him.

She ran down the corridor, away from the closest fights. She wanted to help, but her wordless casting was limited, and she was down to single numbers of her allowance.

She saw red hair in front of her and sped up, skidding around a corner and gasping with horror. Fred was battling a Death Eater, but another was behind him.

Without thinking, she shielded him aloud, and then shouted, "Fred! Look out!"

Her chest clenched, and she stared at her wrist in horror just in time to see the one tick down to zero.

"Hermione!"

She saw Fred reach out but it was too late.

Her vision blurred, and she had a vague feeling of falling before it was all gone.

…

"Hermione?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "How… how am I alive? Am I alive?"

Sadly, Fred reached out to her. "Not quite."

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 17 - You have a limited number of words, and you can only recharge with your soulmate (when you use up your allowance, you die.).

Romance Awareness, Extra: 38. Angst

Galleon - 40. FredHermione

365 - 182. Wisdom

1000 - 370. Running away from something.


	85. Chapter 85

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 538

**Pairing **\- HarryKingsley

* * *

**Whistling A Different Tune **

* * *

Harry had known that (hopefully) one day he'd repeat days to find his soulmate. It was the way wizards found their soulmates, and he'd been looking forward to it since Hermione had come to him, book weighing in her arms, to tell him about it.

He really did think that Hogwarts should teach people about things like this; especially the muggleborns who wouldn't have a clue otherwise. Harry was just lucky he had such a studious friend.

What threw Harry for a loop—quite literally in this case—was that he woke up on his twenty first birthday for the second time.

The time loops only happened after a wizard was fully matured at twenty one, but to have one so soon was unexpected.

Harry walked into work, whistling as he looked around at his coworkers. He knew that there would be a 'surprise' cake waiting for him in the office, and he knew that they wouldn't be sent out on any cases and also that he and Ron would be let off early to go and meet the rest of the Weasleys, but he wasn't really interested in that at the moment.

He was more interested in looking at the people around him to try and work out which of them was also repeating their day.

…

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, blinking when he saw Kingsley standing in the doorway. "Can I have a word?"

Confused, because this hadn't happened the first time, Harry nodded and then shrugged at Ron when the redhead raised his eyebrow. The most obvious explanation was that Kingsley was his soulmate, but he couldn't actually get that lucky, right?

He'd had a crush on Kingsley since he was nineteen and had still been learning the ropes as an Auror. Watching the older man in action, even though Kingsley was Minister and didn't get much time to come and work with the recruits, had been a masterclass, and Harry had relished every session.

He followed after Kingsley all the way up to the Minister's office, and when gestured, took the seat across from Kingsley's own.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Kingsley said, smiling as he took his own seat.

"Thanks. Uh, you didn't bring me all the way up here to tell me that, did you?"

Harry knew he hadn't because the first time around, Kingsley had simply popped his head into the office to offer Harry birthday wishes.

"Ah, no. I… appear to be repeating my day and—"

"Holy shit," Harry muttered, and then felt his face heat up as he blushed. "Sorry. I just… I didn't expect it to be you."

Kingsley grinned wider. "It was a bit of a shock to me too, in all honesty."

"How did you know?"

Kingsley smirked. "I was in the lobby this morning when you arrived at work. You were whistling a different tune than you did the first time around."

Harry stared at him for a long moment and then he snorted, laughing. "You must pay close attention to notice something like that."

Kingsley softened and nodded. "I do."

Harry ducked his head, suddenly shy.

"I know you have plans with your family, but perhaps after... I'd like to celebrate your birthday with you?"

"I'd like that."

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 22 - When you're near your soulmate, time begins to loop (think Groundhog day) until you actually meet.

Romance Awareness, Extra - 25. Celebrating a birthday

1000 - 333. Going to work


	86. Chapter 86

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 906

_Written for Elizabeth, for the Drabble Game. Hope you like it love :D _

* * *

**Almost Like Fate **

* * *

"You've got a new victim coming in today, James," Remus said, looking over the books for the day's appointments. "New blood, so to speak."

James grinned. "Standard bet on if they pass out?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Why do you always think they're gonna pass out?"

"It amuses me," James replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It's always a lottery on if they can handle it or not."

Shaking his head, Remus rounded the desk and walked to the door, flipping the sign to _Open. _

James stretched tall, his fingers stretching to the ceiling, and then walked into the private room to set up for the day.

…

The door tinkled, and Remus looked up from the book he'd been studying. Two men were walking in to the tattoo parlour, one of them quite pale and glancing around nervously, while the other looked around with clear curiosity.

Remus glanced at the appointment book before he smiled at the nervous looking one. "Regulus?"

The man nodded and swallowed hard. "James will be out in a minute, would you like anything to drink?"

"I, uh, water please?"

"Of course. Can I get you anything, Sir?" he asked the other man, who was currently eyeing the photo's of James' past work littered across the wall.

"Coffee please," the man replied. "Look at these, Reggie. You definitely picked a good place to get your tattoo done. He's talented."

As Remus left for the kitchen, he heard Regulus say, "I don't know if I can do this, Sirius."

Poor guy. Remus had a feeling that James could win today's bet though. If the guy even made it as far as the chair.

…

"Hey, I'm James. Welcome to Stag Tat's," James said, introducing himself as he stepped out into the main reception area. The two men turned their attention to him, and James couldn't help but appreciate the _talent _in front of. Especially the younger of the two. Hot damn, he was _cute. _"Which one of you is here for the appointment?"

"Uh, me," the younger said, and James internally rejoiced. He wasn't mad about getting to put his hands on that man, even if it was only to draw on him. "I'm Regulus, sorry. This is my brother, Sirius."

"You know what you want?"

Regulus nodded and handed over a drawing, chewing on his bottom lip. James looked it over and nodded appreciatively. The work was good, and more than that, it was intricate. He did love the work he could sink his teeth into.

"Alright, I'll get this drawn up on transfer paper, and I'll be right back with you. It's to scale?"

Regulus nodded again, and James grinned. "Give me a few. Remus will be here to entertain you if you get bored."

James noticed the way Sirius' eyes lit up with interest and he grinned to himself as he returned to the private room. It was about time someone showed an interest in Remus. Too many people saw his cardigans and always present cup of tea and thought him boring, when they couldn't be further from the truth.

…

"Relax," James prompted, when Regulus sat in the comfortable chair, his arm laid on the rest for easy access. "You're too tense, it'll hurt more if you're tense."

Regulus tried to relax, he really did, but he was nervous and he really didn't know if he could go through with it. Getting a tattoo had seemed like a great idea when he and Sirius had talked about it, but away from the alcohol and jubilance of finally moving out of his parents' house, he wasn't so sure.

"Hey," James said, touching his arm gently. "You'll be okay. First couple of minutes is the worst, I promise."

Regulus nodded and was about to tell James he was ready when he looked at the place that James had touched him and froze.

There, on his arm, were James' fingerprints in red. James followed his gaze and his eyes widened.

"Holy shit."

"You're my—" Regulus cut himself off, raising his eyes to meet James. "You're my soulmate."

"Apparently," James agreed, slightly dazed.

Regulus reached out and stroked the back on James hand, leaving a green mark behind him.

"Wow," James murmured, eyes on the mark. "I didn't… expect this to happen today but… I'm so glad I found you."

Regulus' lips twitched. "I think I found you, since I came to you."

"I touched you first," James argued, his eyes twinkling.

"I googled you when I booked the appointment though, so—"

"So basically we have to thank Google. Ew."

Laughing, Regulus shook his head.

"You're much more relaxed now," James pointed out. "Think you can let me mark you in a different way?"

Taking a deep breath, Regulus nodded. "I'm ready."

…

"James! James! Sirius is my—" Remus blinked when James and Regulus held up their arm to show off their own marks. Remus looked at the purple fingerprints brushed along his hand, and Sirius showed Regulus the blue mark on his own hand.

"What are the odds?" James said, looking at the four marks one after the other. "It's almost like—"

"Fate," Sirius agreed, grinning widely. "Now, let's talk about tattoos, my good sir, because these are fantastic."

He pointed out the photos on the wall and James grinned back at him. "Oh, I feel like this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

Regulus and Remus exchanged a look. "We're doomed."

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 24: A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint.

Romance Awareness, Extra: 29. Tattoo Shop

365\. 233. Lottery

1000\. 495. Tattoo Parlour


	87. Chapter 87

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 601

**Warning **\- Character Death Mentioned

* * *

**What Might Have Been **

* * *

_Avada Kedavra _

The spell had haunted Harry, long before he knew what it was. Written along his arm, he'd wondered what the made up words meant when he'd been old enough to read it. Something about it didn't feel right, so he'd hidden it from everyone around him.

Later, much later, when he learned what it actually was, he was glad that he had.

He got enough pity for things he had no control over, and he didn't need to add another to the mix. Of course, he'd come to the conclusion that whoever his soulmate was would eventually kill him. There wasn't really any other option.

Even in this, where almost everyone who found their soulmate was happy, he had to be different.

Of course, most people didn't know who their soulmate was until it was too late. Harry often wondered why fate was cruel enough to let people know the _last _thing their soulmate would say to them. He couldn't imagine how hard it would be to find out someone was your soulmate, only to lose them.

Not that it would matter to him, he supposed. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise, though, he didn't imagine many would look at it that way.

…

He didn't realise his words had changed from silver to black until he was in the shower. He wasn't surprised really. He'd suspected as much, and to have it confirmed hurt less than he'd imagined it would. Maybe he was just numb.

There was so much emotion inside him from the last two days, maybe even the last two years, and he couldn't even begin to work them out. What was a little bit of surprise against the mountain of grief? What was anger against the sadness?

What was a little bit more grief, piled onto the grief he already felt?

He climbed out of the shower and redressed, slipping his arm band over the words. Just because they'd been said, it didn't mean he had to let anybody see them.

Keeping it a secret had worked well for him so far, hadn't it?

…

The lanterns were dimly lit, and Kingsley rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to be here for this?"

"I have too," Harry confirmed.

Kingsley nodded.

They stood together, Kingsley a calming presence for Harry to cling too, even if only in his mind, as the body of Lord Voldemort was incinerated.

"I can't believe he's actually gone," Harry whispered. "I can't believe it's done."

Kingsley sighed. "Nobody really considered the effect of you taking his life, did they?"

"I didn't take it," Harry said, shaking his head. "He gave it up years ago. I just… got rid of the shell, I guess."

Nodding, Kingsley said, "Well, if you need anyone to talk too… I'm willing to listen, Harry. Anytime, okay?"

"He was my soulmate," Harry admitted, gripping at the band on his arm. He slid it down, just enough to show Kingsley the words on his arm. "I think I always knew, from the first time I met him when I was eleven. I just… didn't want too."

Kingsley hesitated for a moment, and then shook his sleeve away, and pulled his own band down.

_Crucio _

"I like to think that, had I met her before the dark got such a grip on her, Bellatrix would have been different. It is okay to grieve for what might have been, Harry."

Harry stared for a long moment before he nodded and smiled slightly. It was nice, he thought, to know that at least someone understood.

* * *

**Written for:**

Romance Awareness, Day 27 - The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written on you

Romance Awareness, Extra - 44. Theme: Secrets

365 - 240. Lantern

1000 - 438. Death


	88. Chapter 88

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count - 393**

**Written for Romance Awareness, Day 28. **Touching your soulmate accelerates healing of physical injuries **/ Extra: **37\. Genre: Hurt/Comfort.

**Warning - **alcohol abuse and an offscreen overdose.

* * *

**Don't Touch Me **

* * *

Harry reached out for George, only to have him flinch away.

"Don't," he begged. "Don't touch me."

Thinking fast, Harry sunk down the wall until he was sitting beside his soulmate. "What's going on, sweetheart?"

"I deserve this pain, Harry," George whispered, tears falling down his cheeks. He was clearly intoxicated and it made Harry's heart hurt to know how much pain he must be in. "I _deserve _it. I made Percy—"

"You didn't," Harry interrupted firmly. "Nobody _forced _Percy to do anything and nobody else blames you. Doing this, punishing yourself, isn't going to help anything."

Harry had never been so thankful for Molly in his life. She'd sent him a patronus earlier that day to let him know that Percy was in the hospital after an overdose and that George hadn't taken the news well. Looking at his soulmate now, Harry couldn't help but think that was an understatement.

"I didn't do it on purpose," George promised. Apparently, Harry's worry was obvious even despite the alcohol. "I dro-dropped the bottle and tried to clean i-it up."

His breathing was hitching as he worked himself up, and Harry closed his eyes for a minute. "How about you let me help you to bed, and then I'll clean it up, okay?"

George looked at the glass around him and nodded. Harry pulled him to his feet and helped him up the stairs to their bedroom. He undressed George and spelled the dried blood away from the cuts on his hands. Carefully, he helped George lay down, and then he placed his hand on George's cheek, caressing the slightly rosy skin.

The soulmate bond between them activated immediately, and the cuts on George's hands started healing.

"I'm sorry," George whispered. He was still crying, but silently now, tears just sliding down the sides of his face into his hair. "I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this. I'm such a mess."

"You're a mess," Harry agreed. "But you're my mess. You're not alone, sweetheart."

He stayed with George until he fell asleep and then got up and headed back down the stairs to clean up the alcohol and glass.

Tomorrow, he'd take George to see Percy at the hospital if he was allowed visitors. It was going to be a hard few weeks, Harry knew but George was worth it.

He was worth everything.


	89. Chapter 89

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 646

**Warning **for sexual comments

* * *

**Hush **

* * *

"You've been avoiding me," Ginny said, stepping forwards to join Harry at the back door. "Wanna tell me why?"

Harry sighed. "You know why, Gin. Uni starts today and… admittedly, I'm nervous."

"Why? You've been looking forward to it for months."

"Yeah, but… new people. It's… so many chances for one of them to be my soulmate and I don't want that," he rushed to reassure her. "I don't, but if I find them and it's… what if it's not you?"

She smiled. "That's what you're worried about, really?"

He nodded, and she pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "You've got nothing to worry about, I promise you. You're _my _soulmate, Harry."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, wanting, needing something to cling to.

"I've known since my first year," she replied, smiling. "And if you think about it, you'll realise it too."

"Gin—"

"Stop worrying, and have fun, okay? Come see me in Hogsmeade when you can. I'll send you the dates when we get them."

"Gin—"

"Harry. Tell me you love me and that you'll see me in a few weeks."

"I love you," he swore, tugging her into a hug. "I love you, and I'll see you in a few weeks."

She nodded. "Better. I love you. Have fun, okay? University is supposed to be great, so make sure you enjoy it."

"I… I will. Just… how did you know?"

She smiled. "You'll work it out, Potter. I have faith in you."

…

It was three weeks later when Harry woke up suddenly, panting, with the perfectly formed knowledge that Ginny was his soulmate. And he knew why she'd known.

…

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, as the two of them walked through Hogsmeade. "Before, I mean. I never… I thought it was because of the diary, because of Tom, you know? I never even thought about—"

She shook her head. "I think, because I already wanted it, I recognised it for what it was. And, I guess I wanted you to want me for me, not because of a bond, you know?"

He nodded because that made sense.

"You're a parselmouth. Can you still…?"

She took a deep breath and checked that there was nobody in hearing distance before she hissed softly.

"That's… unnecessarily hot when you do it. It's just creepy when I do it," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

Ginny giggled.

"So, what talent of yours did I get?" he asked, smiling down at her.

She shrugged. "Flying maybe? Bill and Charlie had me on a broom when I was seven, so… it's possible."

"If that's true, you've saved my life multiple times that I didn't know about," Harry replied, chuckling. "You're the reason I survived a fully grown dragon in fourth year."

She rolled her eyes. "Hush up, Potter, you're making me blush."

They shared a chuckle, and Ginny pushed herself tighter against him. "I miss you, you know? It's weird, not having you there with me."

"It's weird not being there," Harry admitted, looking up at the towering turrets of the first place he'd found a home in. "It's only a little while longer though, and they you'll be at Merlin University with me. It'll be fun."

"Yeah… private rooms… no supervision… it'll be fun alright."

Harry groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "Dammit, Gin, I'm trying really hard not to think about that yet."

Ginny laughed, loud and free, and it was the best sound Harry had ever known.

"It'll give you something nice to dream about tonight," she said, looking far too pleased with herself.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're a little tease, you know that, right?"

Ginny scoffed. "It's only teasing if you're not willing to follow through with it. I'm as excited as you are."

"That… that does not make any of this easier. _Hush_."

* * *

**Written for: **

Romance Awareness, Day 30. You share talents with your soulmate.

Romance Awareness, Extra: 22. The first day of a new job/school/university


	90. Chapter 90

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

**Challenges listed at the bottom.**

**Word Count** \- 1832

**Hogwarts Assignment** \- Magical Law and Government: Task 5: Write about coming to someone's aid.

_(Note: Max doesn't belong to me either. He's an OC of Lo and Amber's - Piers older cousin)_

* * *

**Haunted Dreams**

* * *

Max popped his head around Piers' bedroom door, smiling at his younger cousin. "Me and James are heading out to eat, you wanna come with us?"

Piers rolled her eyes but smirked at Max. "I'm not about to be a third wheel on your date, Max! It's just a cruel reminded that I'm single and likely to remain that way forever."

"Oh my god, you're so dramatic," Max said, laughing. "You're barely eighteen, it's not like you're ancient, is it? You've got that roguish charm going for you, you'll be beating people off with a stick if you, you know, actually left the house occasionally."

"Leave me to my pity party, would ya?" Piers asked, fluffing his pillow. "I've got a date with a movie and a bowl of popcorn."

Max nodded. "Alright, if you're sure. But uh… you'll need to go and get some more popcorn, I ate the last of it about an hour ago."

He ducked out of the room seconds before the pillow hit the door. Piers snorted when he heard the loud laughter fading as Max walked down the stairs.

…

The light was dying fast as Piers walked back from the shop. He'd bought his popcorn, and a few other snacks because he had no self control, and was looking forward to the movie waiting for him at home.

Two streets from the house he shared with Max, something caught his eye on the treeline of the old woods that bordered the town on two sides. Frowning, he crossed the road to get a better look, and his eyes widened when he realised it was a person, slumped in the bushes, only just visible because of the blue sweatshirt he was wearing.

It was a young man, probably around Piers' age, he thought. He was clearly hurt, bloodied and bruised and had a hand on his ribs.

Unsure if he should phone an ambulance, Piers crouched down by the young man and felt for a pulse, feeling a little useless. He wasn't even sure if he was pressing in the right place.

"Don't… please don't," the young man begged, opening bleary eyes to blink up at Piers.

"Are you… okay?" Piers asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Fine," the man wheezed out, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. With a bit of help from Piers, he managed it.

"What happened to you?" Piers asked, horrified at the amount of cuts littering the boys face and neck.

"Run across the wrong crowd." He seemed to be attempting to stand, so Piers stood up, holding out a hand to help. With only a slight moment of hesitation, the hand was taken and Piers helped him up to his feet. When the young man staggered, Piers shook his head.

"I can't leave you out here, come on," he muttered, helping the young man put his arm over his shoulders."I'm Piers. What's your name?"

"Dean. I, where are we going?"

"I live a couple of streets away," Piers said. "I'm going to take you there, okay?"

Dean nodded and slowly, the two of them made their way down their street.

…

Piers unloaded Dean onto the sofa in the living room and made his way into the kitchen. He was glad Max was out, given his cousin's propensity to panic whenever he saw blood. Dropping his snack bag on the table, he pulled an ice pack from the freezer and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Thankfully, Dean was still conscious. Piers handed the ice over and put the water bottle on the table. "Is there anything I can...do?" he asked, uncertainly.

Dean shook his head. "No. I, uh… I should go. It's not safe—"

"Nobody will find you here," Piers rushed to assure him. When he realised that Dean was shivering, he grabbed an indigo dressing gown from the stair banister and gently laid it out over Dean. "Just relax, okay. Do you want me to call an ambulance? I wasn't sure—"

"No," Dean said, interrupting. "No ambulance, please. I'm okay. Just… I'll be okay."

"Um. Okay. I'll, uh… get you some clean clothes. Those are… not great." Piers raised his hand to gesture at the muddy, ripped clothes Dean was wearing. "I'll be back."

As Piers found a pair of clean sweat pants and a jumper that was too big on Piers for Dean to wear, he wondered what he was actually going to do. Max would be back in a few hours, and he'd probably raise a fuss about taking Dean to the hospital or ringing the police and Piers wasn't sure what Dean would do if he was faced with that.

Whoever had attacked him had clearly scared him.

Piers put the clothes into the bathroom and returned to the living room to collect Dean. He helped him up the stairs and into the bathroom.

"I'll just be downstairs, shout if you need anything, okay?"

Dean nodded and murmured his thanks, closing the door when Piers left. Piers stayed outside the door for a few minutes, waiting for any sign of Dean falling, before once more returned to the living room. He occupied himself with cleaning the dirt stains off the sofa, suddenly grateful that Max had insisted they get a leather one, even though Piers had argued for the comfier material.

When he realised that Dean had been quite a while, he made his way back up to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

He waited for an answer that didn't come and knocked again. "I'm coming in, okay?"

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, frowning when he realised the bathroom was empty. Surely he would have heard Dean if he'd come down the stairs? The bathroom window wasn't open and anyway, it was too small for anyone to climb out of, injured or not.

The fresh clothes he'd left out were gone though, as were any trace of Dean's ripped ones.

It was as if he'd never been there.

Dean left the bathroom and wandered into his bedroom, sitting down on the bed. He was concerned that Dean was out there somewhere, injured and alone, and he was confused that he'd just left—and without Piers even noticing.

When Max returned to the house, a little over an hour later, Piers was lying on his bed, staring at the blank screen of the television.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, fine. Guess I fell asleep."

Max nodded, frowning slightly. "So you didn't watch the movie?"

Piers shook his head no, and Max grinned. "Fetch it downstairs then. I saw your snack haul on the kitchen table, you can't eat all that on your own."

"You sure about that?" Piers asked, raising his eyebrow. "What if I don't wanna share?"

"Jokes on you," Max shrugged. "I can get to them first."

Piers followed Max down the stairs, laughing when his cousin snatched the bag up with a triumphant grin. They settled in together to watch the movie, but the smell of lemon cleaner stuck in Piers nose and he couldn't stop himself from glancing at the door every few minutes, wondering if Dean would come back.

"You sure you're okay?" Max asked, halfway through the movie.

"I'm fine." Piers tried to smile. "Promise."

That night, Dean haunted Piers' dreams, always out of reach, always leaving Piers with an unsettled feeling that he could have, and should have, done more to help.

…

"I'll be right with you," Piers called from the back room of the bakery. He took Max's last batch of muffins from the oven and placed them carefully on the side to cool. Max had nipped out for lunch, leaving Piers to deal with the place on his own.

Thankfully, it'd been quiet.

When he walked through to the main area of the shop and turned to the counter, he blinked. He knew that face, it was one that had continue to haunt his dreams frequently over the past year.

Dean was clearly nervous, his hands clenching and unclenching around the sleeves of his army green jacket, and his foot practically bouncing on the floor.

"Uh. Hi?" Piers said. "You look… better?"

Dean snorted and nodded. "I should hope so. I, uh. I wanted to come and apologise for just… ditching out the way I did, and also to thank you."

"I didn't really do anything."

"You helped me," Dean said simply. "I wanted to thank you for that. So, uh. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I, just… how did you leave? I mean, you couldn't have climbed through the window and I didn't hear you on the stairs and—"

"I, uh," Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "This is going to sound really weird, and I'm so sorry, but I can't… I can't tell you. But. Well, I thought… you deserved to know that I was okay, so… I'm just gonna…"

He nodded to the door.

"Wait," Piers said, not even sure why. "Just… do you want a blueberry muffin? They just came out of the oven and, well, they're really good so… you could stay?"

Dean glanced at the door and then back at Piers. "Okay. I… thanks. I'd like that."

…

"Wait, wait," Piers said, waving his hand at Dean to make him quiet. Dean waited nervously for whatever Piers was going to say about the secret he'd been hiding since they met. "This is how you left isn't it? That first time, I mean. You just… magic-ed yourself away?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I thought I was losing my damn mind!" Piers exclaimed.

"I'm sorry. And, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just… we're not really supposed to, you know, tell people about it. It's kind of against the law."

"You… just broke the law to tell me that you're secretly a wizard?" Piers asked. "This is hurting my head. What does this mean for us, Dean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean," Dean admitted quietly. He waved his hand at the ring box Piers had offered him only a few minutes before. "I couldn't let you offer that without knowing the truth about me. It's not right."

"That's the only reason you didn't say yes?" Piers checked.

"Of course it is! I love you, Piers, you know I do! I just… marriage is a big step, isn't it? And you definitely shouldn't get married when you're hiding such a big part of yourself but—"

"I love you," Piers interrupted. "And if that means loving you while you make rabbits pop out of hats, then that's what I'll do."

Dean snorted. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Piers promised. "But, later, after engagement sex and engagement cuddles, you've got a lot of s'plaining to do."

Dean smiled. "I can do that. You gonna ask me again?"

Piers picked the ring box up and held it out, open, to Dean. "Marry me?"

"Yes."

* * *

**Written for:**

Disney - S2. Pairing with two characters from different walks of life (Muggle/Wizard)

Trope - 7. Write about someone with a secret.

Space - 8. Green

Angel - 20. "It's just a cruel reminder that I'm single and likely to remain that way forever."

Scamander's Case - 16. Nervous

Wandmaker - 2. Alder (holding out a hand) / 11. Rougarou Hair (Roguish)

Build A Bear - Bear: Wild Elephant - Piers Polkiss.

Game Night - Truth - Indigo

Pop Figure - Night King - 1. Blue / 2. Raise / 4. Ice

365\. 277. Haunt

1000\. 579. Dressing Gown


	91. Chapter 91

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1204

**Warning **\- Character Death

* * *

**photographs beneath his pillow **

* * *

_She held him tightly, gripping at his khaki green coat like she was never intending to let go. He sympathised with her. He didn't want to leave. This was never supposed to be his life. The Malfoy family ring on his hand said as much, and yet, it still hadn't saved him from this fate. _

"_I love you, Mother," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. _

"_You make sure you come home," she begged him, releasing him. "Goodbye, Draco." _

"_I will, I promise. Goodbye, Mother." _

_As Draco got into the car, and watched the Manor fade behind him, he tried to be surprised that his father hadn't even been there to see him leave. _

…

"Goodnight, Brothers. Goodnight."

Draco rolled his eyes and twisted on his bunk, unable to get comfortable. He was aggravated, scared and he just wanted to go home. He wasn't meant to be a soldier. He was supposed to be a man in a suit, living the privileged life he was brought up in, carrying little more than a briefcase and a full wallet.

Sighing to himself, he pulled the photographs out from under his pillow. He only had a few. One of his mother, one of Draco surrounded by his friends, and one of his horse, Flash, the most precious being in Draco's life.

He thought he missed that horse more than he missed the Manor and all it's comfort.

The other men had pictures of their families, their partners waiting for them at home. They told stories between them, and Draco wondered if they were doing it because they actually wanted to share their lives with strangers, or if it was to just help keep them sane.

Draco was going with the second theory. It had only been two weeks since he'd shipped out, and already he felt like he was losing his mind.

Huffing, he stuffed the photo's back beneath his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He ignored the silent tears sliding down his face into the pillow.

He just wanted to go home.

…

"You're Malfoy, right?"

Draco groaned and turned away. It was before dawn, and he was quite sure he'd only slept for about an hour.

"Hey now, I know I'm not much to look at but—"

"Let me guess. You have a great personality?" Draco mumbled into his pillow.

"Not a morning person then?" The soldier who'd woken him was far too cheerful, but Draco didn't want to get in trouble for beating his 'brothers'. "Well, you need to get up. We're heading out in twenty minutes."

"Heading out where?"

…

The soldier who'd woken Draco was Theodore Nott, and he _would not stop talking. _They rode side by side in the back of the jeep, and he hadn't stopped for breath since they'd sat down.

"And really, if you think about it, it takes two to lie; one to lie and one to listen, and—"

"That makes absolutely no sense," Draco interrupted. "The listener wouldn't necessarily know they were taking part in a lie."

"I was just seeing how long it would take you to interrupt," Theo said, grinning. "Props, you lasted longer than most people do."

"Aren't soldiers meant to be all… silent and obedient and—"

"I follow orders just fine," Theo said, rolling his eyes. "I can be obedient when I need to be. The silence out here will kill you more painfully than a bullet though, so I fill it whenever I can."

That, unfortunately, made a whole lot of sense to Draco and he nodded. "I guess so."

"So why don't you talk for a while?"

"I've… not really got anything to say."

…

"Shh. Be quiet, and be careful," the soldier in front of Draco murmured.

Draco was desperate to be anywhere but there in that moment, but he hunkered down and listened to the gunfire. It was so rapid, it sounded somewhat like the pitter-patter of a heavy rainfall.

He didn't know what was worse, the fear for his own life or being witness to the end of others. Nobody wrote about this in the brochure—not that Draco had seen one, but he couldn't imagine anyone willing signing up for this hell.

Eventually, the gunfire slowed to a stop, and after a long, pregnant pause, the soldiers around him seemed to sag with relief.

"We need to arrange a retrieval for the… men," one of the leaders said quietly.

The word 'bodies' was left unsaid, but it was still heard.

"I… where's Theo?" Draco asked, looking along the line of soldiers.

None of them met his eyes.

…

He'd known Theo for less than a day, and he didn't understand why he felt so… sad. So angry. And admittedly, he felt a little betrayed.

Theo had been the first person to reach out to him, and now he was gone and Draco was more alone than ever. He almost wished that Theo hadn't spoken to him, because then he might not be feeling such a burn in the back of his eyes, or the sharp pain in his chest.

How could a young life be snuffed out so easily.

Draco stared at the flickering candle on the wall and sighed. It was far too easy to compare the candlelight to the lives of all of those around him.

Including himself.

He suddenly regretted the promise he'd made to his mother.

…

"Hey."

Draco looked up to see one of the older soldiers standing close by the table he'd been sitting at.

"Uh. Hi?"

"I heard that you were asking about Theo when… well, you know. Were you friends?"

Draco shrugged, looking down. "I think we could have been. I only met him that morning but—"

"You don't need to explain. I'm Blaise. I… here."

A photograph was thrusted at Draco, and he took it, more out of shock than because he thought he should. On the shiny paper, Theo grinned up at him, his arms around two other soldiers.

"I thought you might want to… remember him, I guess. This was taken a few weeks ago. It was the heat of the moment, you know? Turned out well though, it's a good picture of him."

"Thanks," Draco said quietly, never taking his eyes away from the photo. When he eventually did look up, Blaise was gone.

…

That photograph joined the others under his pillow.

…

"_Draco!" _

_He smiled tiredly for his mother as she walked quickly towards him. It was strange to be home; he hadn't truly expected to make it. _

_He'd been lucky, but there were many, too many, who hadn't been. _

"_I'm so glad you're safe, Sweetheart," she said, gathering him into a tight hug. "It will be nice to put this behind us. I've been so worried about you." _

_Draco nodded and when she took his hand to lead him into the Manor, he let her lead him willingly. _

_He knew that he wouldn't be able to put it behind him, the way she was hoping. He knew that he'd left part of himself behind when he'd gotten onto the plane. _

_When he went to bed that night, it was with his hand resting on photographs beneath his pillow. _

* * *

**Written for: **

Assorted Appreciation - 20. Photograph

Trope - 3. Someone who wants to return home.

Space - 10. Soldier!au

Book Club - 8. Allison - Theory / Desperation / Saying Goodbye

Showtime - 33. "Goodnight, Brothers. Goodnight."

Liza Loves - 11. Family Ring

Scamander - 6. "Shh. Be quiet, and be careful."

Bex's Basement - 16. "It takes two to lie; one to lie and one to listen."

Film Festival - 21. "Let me guess. You have a great personality?"

Marvel - 1. Soldier!AU

Lyric Alley - 9. It was the heat of the moment

Wacky Wandmaker - 10. Cherry (privileged) / Whisker (aggravated)

Build A Bear - 3. Dorothy Costume - Green

Game Night - Truth - Khaki

Pop Figure - Stormtrooper - 1. Soldier!au / 2. Fear / 4. Obedient

365\. 357. Witness

1000\. 607. Candle


	92. Chapter 92

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 1385

* * *

**not for anything **

* * *

He slipped through the shadows, his black robe helping to hide him. Not that the Dementors would have any trouble finding him. He was sure he was projecting his worry and fear for all of them to find.

He checked around him, expecting to see one of them ready to swoop down on him, despite the protective barrier afforded him by the potion he'd used before ever stepping onto the island.

Taking the mark had been worth it, he considered, if only because it awarded him the knowledge of the potion's existence.

Yet another of the Dark Lord's secrets, used against him by one he didn't consider a threat.

It was a simple potion in some ways, but it was an effective deterrent for Dementors. It had been how the Dark Lord had been able to approach the Dementors, no matter that the Ministry liked to perpetuate the rumours that it was simply because of how powerful he was.

It made them seem better, in the public's eyes, he supposed.

The air in the prison was stifling, even though it was cold. He'd never been anywhere like this, and he hoped with all he had that he'd never have to return. Of course, should his plan go wrong, he could be earning himself a place in one of these very cells.

Ensuring his face was hidden, he walked past cell after cell, checking each of them for the one he came seeking. Eventually, in almost the furthest cell down the corridor, he finally saw his brother.

It was a shocking sight, even when he thought he'd been prepared for it. Then again, he supposed nothing could prepare one for such a thing.

"Sirius," he hissed, through the bars. "Sirius, _wake up_."

Sirius blinked hazily at him, his eyes bloodshot and sore. His skin was pale, streaked with blood where he'd scratched himself. His clothes were threadbare and ruined, holes and tears littering the material.

"Regulus?"

Regulus nodded, tugging the cloak away from his face just enough for Sirius to see him properly.

Sirius only blinked at him. "They've finally sent me mad. You're dead. Am I dead?"

"You're not dead, though if you don't move, we might both end up so before the evening is over. Move away from the door."

Sirius frowned at him but did as he was bid, shifting slowly across the floor of the cell until he was pressed against the stone wall. Regulus flexed his arm, his wand shooting from it's holster into his hand.

"_Bombarda_," he muttered, wincing when the cell door clattered loudly as the lock fell away, blasted to pieces.

Ignoring the shrieks and shouts of the other prisoners in his ears, Regulus stepped into his brother's cell.

"Sirius, I know you're probably in all manner of pain, but I need you to work with me here," Regulus muttered, tugging Sirius to his feet. "We've gotta get out of here before the Dementors come."

Just the name of the creatures that policed the prison was enough to make his brother shiver violently, and Regulus wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but there wasn't any _time_. They slipped from the cell, Regulus carrying most of Sirius' weight as he half helped, half dragged his brother down the corridor.

The air was getting colder around them, and Regulus knew that it was going to be a fight to get out. Sand was certainly slipping through the timer at an alarming rate, he knew. They had to make it back out to the boat, and away from the island Azkaban was situated on.

Keeping that in mind, he gripped his wand once more.

"_Expecto Patronum," _he whispered, following it up twice more so that three Crups circled the two of them.

They were almost there, just a few more corridors to pass through. Sirius was lagging even more, tired from the small amount of walking he'd done. Regulus hated how his brother struggled, given the strength he'd always had.

Once upon a time, it had been Sirius that had always been the one to come to Regulus' aid.

A shimmer of a black cloak appeared in the corner of Regulus' eye as they finally reached the door, and he used his wand to direct one of his crups blindly in the direction, hoping it would be enough. Stumbling down the rocks, he held onto Sirius tightly practically throwing him into the moored boat waiting for them.

The rocks were already slippery, but the torrential rain pouring down around them really weren't helping matters. The two of them were drenched in minutes, but Regulus knew that he'd rather deal with the flu than the removal of his soul.

The mahogany coloured wood had darkened in the water, but it had stayed afloat which was almost more than Regulus could have hoped for at this point. With a few taps of his wand on the sides of the boat, it was moving across the choppy water.

With one hand still holding Sirius down in the boat, Regulus looked behind them at the prison. Dementors were swarming around the island, though they hadn't followed. He could only think it was the potion at work, and thanked Merlin again that he'd had the knowledge of it.

"Regulus?" Sirius mumbled, and he turned his attention back to his brother. "How are you alive?"

"Being dead fulfilled my needs at the time," Regulus admitted. "But you were innocent and… well. I couldn't just leave you there, could I?"

"Some might call it justice for the way I abandoned you," Sirius admitted. Without Regulus holding him down, he struggled into a sitting position, the small movements seeming to sap whatever energy he had left as he slumped to the side of the boat.

"A bit of a harsh punishment, no?" Regulus commented lightly.

As the boat got further away from the island, the rain lightened from torrential to more of a trickle, and even the night sky seemed brighter. The full moon hung in the sky, and Regulus noticed Sirius gazing up at it.

"Remus will be—" he cut himself off, shaking his head.

"I know what he is," Regulus said, rolling his eyes. "Credit me with some intelligence, won't you?"

"I've always know you were clever, Reg. That's why… it's why it never made sense, that you took the mark and then betrayed him. It never… it didn't make sense."

"I hope you know this doesn't mean I plan to join Dumbledore and his merry band."

"He's… Voldemort's gone, Reg. You won't need too."

Regulus snorted. "He'll come back. Don't tell me you don't know that, because I know how clever you are as well."

Sirius nodded. "I suppose. So you're just going to what? Stay neutral? You know you can't do that, Reg."

"I plan to stay dead," Regulus replied. "And you're going to have to do the same, Sirius. At least until we can prove you're innocent."

"How d'you know I was innocent?" Sirius asked after a long pause.

Regulus smiled grimly. "Because you might have abandoned me, Sirius, but I know that nothing would ever make you betray Potter. Not for anything."

Sirius, for the first time in Regulus' memory, was too speechless to reply.

…

"Uh. Nice place."

Regulus arched his eyebrows but didn't reply as he led Sirius into the small house. He'd hidden in plain sight, in the middle of an affordable muggle town with no other wizards present for miles.

It wasn't much, but it was his, and it was warm, and it was… home.

"You can stay as long as you need too," Regulus said. "And I'll help you anyway I can, to prove that you didn't betray James."

Regulus guided Sirius into a chair, seeing the relief on his face when he sunk into the comfort. The chair was worn and a little old, but it was certainly better than anything in Azkaban.

"Reg… _Thank you." _

Regulus nodded. "I'll make you a cup of tea. And then we'll talk about what to do next."

Sirius nodded.

By the time Regulus returned, Sirius was fast asleep, curled up in the arm chair. Regulus sighed but didn't wake him, instead just covered him up with a blanket.

They had time now.

They could only be thankful for that.

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - T3. A sibling coming to their brother/sister's aid

Book Club - 5. Happy - Justice / Chair / Sand

Scamander - 25. Speechless

Film Festival - 8. Black

Marvel - 15. Siblings

Funfair - Jack O Lantern - Light it up - 6. Warm

Galleon - 24. Blood

Pumpkin Toss - Medium, 9. Regulus Black

Days of the month - 73. Thanksgiving - Being thankful for something/someone.

Autumn - 18. Rain

Colour - 7. Mahogany

Flowers - 7. Amaranthus - Innocence

Element - 6. Stifling

Bake a Cake - Vanilla Essence - Azkaban

Ravenclaw - 1. Clever

Star Chart - 8. Leonids Meteor Shower - Regulus Black

Religious Holidays/Events - 30. Kartik Purnima - Moon Gazing

History of Autumn - 14. A full moon

365\. 264. Affordable

HPFC, Trick or Treat: Potter Family - 3. Relief


	93. Chapter 93

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1312

**Hogwarts Assignment 6 **\- Notable Witches and Wizards, Task 4. Write about a muggleborn receiving prejudice or hate. (Colin Creevey)

**Warning - **Bullying

* * *

**Heart Of A Lion **

* * *

Colin was _excited. _

The word seemed inadequate for the emotions inside of him, but he didn't have any other words for how he was feeling. He was practically vibrating with eagerness to just go already, because he wanted to begin his adventure.

Magic school.

He sometimes still wondered if he should pinch himself to see if this was all a dream, but he'd done so repeatedly on the day that the lady—Professor he should say—came to his house in a lime green witches hat and told him and his dad that Colin had been accepted into Hogwarts.

Professor Sprout had been lovely, and she'd told him all about Hogwarts, where she was the head of Hufflepuff House. Colin thought Hufflepuff sounded like a good house—fair, and just and loyal. Who didn't want to be those things?

He really liked yellow, too.

"Come on then," his dad said, nodding at the door. "Do you need help getting your trunk into the car?"

Colin shook his head and opened the front door, tugging his trunk out behind him. It was huge, and heavy, and the floor was slippery from the rain, but he persevered with it, dragging it down the pathway to where their car was parked. His dad opened the boot and stood patiently to the side as Colin tried to lift the trunk into the boot of the car.

Until, "Uh. I think… I can't lift it, Dad?"

Laughing, his dad hefted the trunk into the boot of the car and closed it, nodding to the car. "Are you going to sit in the back with Dennis on the way?"

Colin nodded immediately. "Sure, Dad. He's… he'll be okay, right? Without me, I mean?"

"He'll be fine," his dad promised, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get in the car, I'll go and get him. He's sulking in his bedroom."

Colin sighed but nodded, climbing into the back seat. He worried about his little brother. Dennis had been so quiet this summer, just waiting for Colin to leave. It was awful, and more than once, Colin had asked their Dad if he should stay home.

He startled slightly when the door opened and Dennis climbed into the seat beside him, as their dad got into the driver's seat. Dennis strapped himself in and then looked at Colin mournfully.

"You okay, Den?"

His little brother nodded, and Colin sighed.

"You're gonna be just fine, you know? And I'll send you loads of pictures, I promise. I'll write all the time, and I'll be home before you know it!"

Dennis just nodded again, and Colin bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from telling his little brother off. The last thing he wanted was to go to school with Dennis angry at him.

"You'll be fine," he repeated for lack of anything else to say. He reached out for Dennis' hand, and was a little gratified when Dennis clung to him immediately.

They didn't talk again, and Colin watched the streets he'd grown up on fade away. It would be a while until he saw them again.

…

The Hogwarts Express was _amazing. _If this was just the train, then Colin couldn't even begin to think about what the actual school would be like. A little woman had just been by Colin's compartment with a trolley, offering up chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties, and Colin hadn't known what to get for the best.

The doors opened again, and Colin perked up, hoping it was other first years for him to talk too. He'd been hoping for company, and had wondered about trailing the corridor of the train himself, but he hadn't wanted to be a bother.

Standing in the doorway to his compartment were three older boys, each of them donning ties in green and silver, the colours of Slytherin House. Colin had made sure to memorise all of the details like that from Hogwarts A History, since he was hoping to have things to talk to people about.

The middle boy was the shortest, and his light blond hair was slicked back against his skull. It seemed to shine in the glare of the overhead lights. The other two boys were larger set and looked quite… grumpy.

"Who are you?" the blond boy asked, rather rudely in Colin's opinion. Something about the way he was looking at Colin made him uncomfortable.

"Colin Creevey," Colin answered, holding his hand out to shake.

The boy wrinkled his nose and looked down at Colin's hand as though it were covered in dirt. Colin pulled his hand back in, unsure.

"Ew. Mudblood. Well, get out, we need this compartment."

"But…. I was here first," Colin said, leaning back against the wall.

"And you've already stunk it up quite enough," the boy agreed. "You'll learn that Muggle-Borns are second class citizens at Hogwarts—you might as well get used to it now."

Colin wilted, but before he could stand up, one of the larger boys moved into the compartment and tugged on his arm, pulling him from his seat. He was shoved forcibly from the compartment, and the door was closed firmly in his face.

He bit his lip hard to try and quell the tears threatening to fall. For the first time since meeting Professor Sprout, Colin began to doubt his excitement.

Maybe he didn't belong here, either.

He'd often gone unnoticed in school back home, but it had always been fine because Dennis was there to keep him company. He'd hoped it would change at Hogwarts but…

Maybe being unnoticed was for the best.

He walked away from the compartment, until he found a quiet bit of corridor and then sunk down to the floor, making himself as small as possible as he leant back against the wall.

He'd hoped that going to Hogwarts would help him feel like he finally belonged somewhere, but he doubted that now.

He didn't belong here after all.

…

Colin sat on the stool, wondering who to speak to about going home. He didn't want to be here, no matter the talking portraits or the ghosts or the magic.

He wanted to go _home. _

A hat was placed on his head, falling down to cover his eyes. Colin almost jumped out of his skin when the hat _talked to him. _

"_You are not ready to go home, Mr Creevey," _the hat said.

Colin scowled. _I am, I am, I am_, he thought back fiercely.

"_You're not,_" the hat disagreed. "_You are…. You are meant to be here. This is where you will stay. Those boys you faced today, they are not an example of the majority of the people you will meet at Hogwarts_."

_I don't care_, Colin thought, though he knew he sounded petulant now. _I want… I want to go home. To my dad, and Dennis, and to people that won't be mean to me for something I can't help!_

"_Muggle children can be as cruel as wizard children,_" the hat argued. "_And I believe you are aware of that, Mr Creevey. I see every thought you've ever had. I see how protective you are of Dennis, how brave you can be in your defence of him. You have the heart of a lion. I believe that the colours on your tie, can only be those of GRYFFINDOR!_"

The last word was shouted to the hall, and as the hat was removed, Colin looked down to see his tie was now striped red and gold.

He glanced at the Hufflepuff table before he turned to that which was cheering and clapping up a storm.

Well. At least he wasn't in the same house as those horrible boys. Maybe… maybe he could stay. Even if it was only for a little while.

His dad hadn't raised him to quit so easily and, well, he _had _promised Dennis some photos.

* * *

**Written for: **

Showtime - 12. Doubt

Scamander - 8. Someone who often goes unnoticed.

Film Festival - 9. Lime Green

Funfair - Decoration - Hanging Decoration, 1. Witch - Uncomfortable

Galleon - Hogwarts Express

Trick or Treat - Treat - Banana - Slippery

Masque - Glitter - 5. School Tie

Pumpkin Toss - Medium - Pumpkin Pasties

365\. 278. Shine


	94. Chapter 94

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 519

* * *

**The Damage Would Face (The Healing Would Begin) **

* * *

The room was charred and blackened, but it was still there. Neville let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was being ridiculous, being so attached to a room, but he couldn't help it.

If it hadn't been for the Room of Requirement, and the safe haven it had presented as, he was utterly certain that he'd wouldn't have lived to see the final battle.

He looked around the room, wondering how to even begin with fixing it. Could he just… wish away the damage?

He tried and found he couldn't, which meant he needed someone far more skilled than he. He wanted to help, he really did, but he knew his own limitations. This was a too-big job for him to do alone.

He also knew that given the damage to the rest of the castle, the room would be low on the list of priorities.

"Neville?"

He spun around, his wand in his hand before he'd even realised that he'd pulled it from his pocket.

Harry stood by the door, his hands raised in front of him, an understanding look on his face.

Neville blushed and stowed his wand, muttering an apology.

"We really did a number on this place, didn't we?" Harry said, looking around at the smoke damage to the walls. Everything that had been inside had been burned to a crisp. "Is it fixable, do you think?"

Neville nodded. "It's still here. I think that means we can fix it."

"I hope so," Harry said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Hmm? I'm fine," Neville replied, frowning. "How are _you _feeling?"

Harry seemed to consider him for a moment. "I don't know. A lot. It's… it's all a lot. I think I still can't believe that it's… done."

Neville nodded because that made sense. It had been a long year for Neville, but Harry had been living this for much longer than a year.

"I think we can spell away the smoke damage, right?" Harry asked, looking at the high walls. "And then… maybe Professor McGonagall, or Professor Flitwick can help with the rest?"

Neville nodded, taking his wand from his pocket. He saw Harry doing the same. They worked in silence, but it was comfortable. By the time they were done, Neville was sweating with exertion.

He'd never really had to cast the same spell for so long, and he hadn't realised how draining it was.

"It looks like… less of a catastrophe now," Harry said, his lips tugging up into a smile. "That's something."

"Should we nip down to the kitchens?" Neville asked. "I could do with a drink and something to eat, and the house elves are back down there. The kitchens didn't take much damage."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. He stowed his wand and Neville did the same, glancing up at the now ivory walls. He felt better, now that he'd done _something. _

It might not be fixed, but it was improved. It would get there, eventually. The damage would fade away, and the pain and the hurt and the grief would heal.

For now, Neville was content.

* * *

**Written for: **

Funfair - Apple Picking - Tree 3 - 1. Fade

Monster Mash - Legs/Feet - 2. Mechanical leg - The Room Of Requirement

Masque - Fabric - Catastrophe

365\. 272. Ivory


	95. Chapter 95

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 720

* * *

**A Branch Offered**

* * *

Draco stared at the letter for a long moment, unsure how to feel. Of anyone he ever expected to get an owl from, Potter was the last on the list. That the letter carried bad news wasn't as much of a surprise. Draco rarely received good news, these days.

The owl that had brought the letter hopped on the desk, clearly having been told to hang around for a reply, and Draco rubbed at his face tiredly.

He knew he should go; Andromeda, no matter that she'd been branded a traitor, was his aunt. It was only proper that he show his face at her funeral, and yet, the thought of being around so many people who would undoubtedly despise him filled him with dread.

But… he was trying to turn a new leaf. Be less selfish.

Draco sat down at his desk and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. On it, he wrote his reply, informing Potter that he'd be there. When he was done, he only hesitated for a moment before he attached the letter to the owl's leg and watched it fly away.

Sighing to himself, Draco slumped in his seat, his elbows resting on his desk. Turning over a new leaf was _hard. _

…

Potter wasn't amongst the crowd of people gathered in the garden of the Tonk's house, and Draco knew he should find him before he left. It would be rude to not even greet the man who'd put forward the effort to let Draco know when and where the funeral would be held.

He knew he could have caught him earlier at the graveside, but Draco had been oddly nervous about facing his childhood rival again.

Gathering his courage, he slipped into the house and followed the sound of giggling.

Standing in the doorway to the living room, Draco watched Potter tickle a little boy in the middle of a rug. It was a monstrosity, the rug, but it looked cozy, and the child seemed to be enjoying rolling around on it.

Potter caught sight of him and blushed slightly. Draco couldn't help but think it was slightly charming on the admittedly handsome man, and he felt his lips tilt up slightly without his permission.

"Potter."

"Draco. I… thank you for coming. I know it mustn't have been easy for you."

Draco shrugged slightly. "I was just about to leave, but I wanted to… well. Greet you, I guess."

Oddly, Potter's face fell slightly as he nodded and looked back at the child. "Have you met Teddy yet? He's your second cousin, my godson."

Draco shook his head, and against his better judgement, took a few hesitant steps towards them. "He's cute."

Potter nodded, and then swallowed hard. "I'm all he has left, I guess. I don't…" he chuckled dryly. "I've got no idea how to be a parent."

Not knowing why Potter had decided to confide in him, but suddenly unwilling to throw it back in his face, Draco slipped down onto the rug facing Potter.

"He looks happy," Draco murmured, eyes on Teddy. "You're good with him."

"Thanks. It's just… a lot I guess. Sorry, I know you didn't come here to listen to me. It was good of you to come, Draco."

Draco knew that Potter was giving him an out but he found that he was hesitant to take it.

"I, uh. I can stick around? If you want? I… I don't really have much going on right now."

Which was an understatement if Draco had ever made one, he thought to himself as Potter stared at him like he'd just spoke in tongues. Draco's life at the moment consisted of rattling around the mansion because whenever he left, he had to deal with the stares of distrust and mutters of disgust.

Potter's head tilted slightly before he nodded slowly. "I'd like that."

Draco smiled and slowly, reached out to tickly the bottom of Teddy's foot, his smile only widening when the little boy let out fresh peals of laughter, rolling away from Draco's fingertips.

He didn't know if anything would come of this, if it would just be an afternoon of company, or if it could even branch into a friendship, but for the first time in a long while, Draco was willing to take the chance.

* * *

**Written for: **

North Funfair - Christmas Market - A Luxury Eagle Owl Quill - An Owl / Draco Malfoy

East Funfair - Christmas Crackers - 16. Handsome / Monstrosity / Rug

South Funfair - Paper Chains - Draco&Harry / Writing a letter.

Galleon - No Word 'Said'

Days of the Year - 39. Babbling Day: Write about someone being nervous during an interaction.

Star Chart - 2. Draconids Meteor Shower: Draco Malfoy

365\. 312. Nervous


	96. Chapter 96

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 633

* * *

**Put Money On It **

* * *

Kingsley let himself into the house, and promptly fell over the broomstick that had been leaning precariously against the wall until the light breeze knocked it down in Kingsley's path. Snorting to himself, he shook his head and picked it up, placing it in the umbrella rack.

Harry would undoubtedly tell him off for that—"It's not an umbrella!"—but Kingsley wasn't sure where else to put it. They really needed to sort out the shed, but they'd both been so busy lately that when they got home from work, neither of them were interested in yet more work.

Still, the fact that the broomstick was there at all meant Harry was home, which was always a good thing.

Sure enough, after he'd hung his cloak up and put his shoes on the rack, Kingsley stepped into the living room to see Harry sprawled out on the sofa, a coffee cup resting on his chest with one hand wrapped around it.

"Hey you," Kingsley greeted, bending down to kiss his partner. "How was your day?"

Harry kissed him back, but then huffed at the question. "Fine I guess. I just… still can't change into a goddamn animal and it's _frustrating._"

"You'll get there, sweetheart," Kingsley replied, squeezing Harry's shoulder as he straightened up. "You have my deepest sympathy though, it took me almost three years. I know it's hard, but keep persevering with it."

"You know, if you loved me, you would have brought me chocolate instead of sympathy," Harry said, smiling up at him impishly.

Kingsley raised his eyebrow and pulled a bar of chocolate from his robes, handing it over to a grinning Harry. "See how well I know you?"

"Thank you," Harry said, already pulling open the foil. "You're literally the best."

"Uh huh."

…

Kingsley blinked at the moving yellow blanket. When a little black head poked out of it, he tilted his head to the side, curiously. The kitten seemed quite content to explore the sofa, sniffing everywhere, it's little ears pricking occasionally.

Kingsley watched for a moment, amused, before he coughed pointedly.

The kitten yelped and spun around, almost losing its balance on the sofa cushion and tumbling off. Thankfully it didn't, it's claws digging into the material for a moment to hold it in place. When the kitchen looked up, Kingsley chuckled.

He'd recognise those eyes anywhere.

Harry had persevered with the Animagus change for almost a year, and Kingsley would put money on the kitten being him.

Sure enough, there was a ripple, and the glossy black fur receded to leave Harry sitting in the kitten's place, glaring balefully at Kingsley.

"It's not polite to sneak up on people," he groused, but then held his hands out for Kingsley to join him, immediately pressing his face against Kingsley's chest when he sat down beside him.

Really, if Kingsley had thought about it, he'd have known Harry would have been a cat; although the adorable kitten form was a surprise. Kingsley in his panther form would dwarf Harry if they transformed together.

"I wanted to be bigger," Harry muttered. "Being a kitten isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"You're adorable, if that helps?" Kingsley offered, smirking. "The cutest thing I've ever seen."

Harry snorted. "That is not a good thing, Kings. How is a kitten going to help me in the field?"

"Small enough to escape from places a human certainly couldn't," Kingsley pointed out. "And nobody would be suspicious of a little kitten wandering about. If you'd been something more conspicuous, you wouldn't have been able to use it for recon of any kind."

Harry hummed his agreement. "True."

Kingsley stroked a hand through Harry's hair, and to his amusement, Harry almost _purred. _

Yeah, he thought to himself. Definitely could have called this one.

* * *

**Written for: **

Basement: 9. "It's not polite to sneak up on people."

Marvel: 6. Persevering

Pairing The Character - HarryKingsley

North Funfair - Christmas Market - Nimbus 2000 - Broomstick / Harry Potter

East Funfair - Christmas Crackers - 12. Yellow / Cat / "Thank you."

South Funfair - Paper Chains - HarryKingsley / 7. "If you loved me, you would have brought me chocolate instead of sympathy."

365\. 303. Glossy


	97. Chapter 97

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 1341

Note - This story is not canon compliant.

* * *

**I'll Wait For You **

* * *

It started with an innocence that Cedric couldn't help but find charming. As the other students treated Harry like he was carrying some kind of contagious illness, Cedric was drawn to him.

He watched from the sidelines, surrounded by his friends, as Harry was left alone to struggle along.

It left Cedric with a bitter taste in his mouth.

What was it about this boy that made everyone lose their heads? Sure, he was too young to enter the competition, but it was done, and the school should be rallying behind him as they were Cedric, not treating him like a leper.

Cedric didn't like it, but he didn't really know how to reach out to Harry.

Or if it would even be welcome.

…

When Cedric had put his name in the Goblet of Fire, it was because it was expected of him. He was a good student, a popular student, and there was no real question if he was going to do it.

It was just a fact that he would.

Cedric was beginning to wonder if Harry had been telling the truth when he said that he didn't put his name in the fire. He listened as time and time again, Harry protested his innocence to Rita Skeeter, who smiled back at him with greedy eyes as she realised just how many papers the green eyed boy would sell.

They posed for pictures side by side, and while Cedric offered the photographer an easy smile, he later saw that Harry just looked like he wanted to the ground to swallow him whole.

It was a strong reminder that as mature as he may seem, Harry was fourteen.

He deserved better than what he was getting.

…

Cedric climbed the stairs wearily. It had been a long day, and he was still aching from his run in with the dragon, despite Madam Pomphrey's work to make him better.

The common room was wild though, the Hufflepuffs celebrating that he wasn't actually burned to death, and he couldn't stomach it. It was just too much on top of the day he'd already had.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he blinked when he saw that the Astronomy Tower was already occupied.

Harry sat by the window, his arms wrapped around his legs as he leant against the wall.

"Harry?"

The younger man startled and looked up to meet Cedric's eyes, his cheeks flushing a light red.

"I wasn't expecting anyone to come up here," Harry muttered, uncurling with a grimace. "Sorry, I'll leave you to it."

"You're fine," Cedric said, waving his hand for Harry to sit back down as he started to get up. "Stay. How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged as he settled back down against the wall, watching Cedric do the same across from him. "I don't know. Relieved I guess."

"Flying against a dragon… that's some achievement. What was it like when you were in the air?"

"Windy," Harry replied, and his blush intensified when Cedric chuckled. "No. Uh. I don't really… remember? There wasn't time to think, I just… acted on instinct, I guess."

Cedic nodded. "You did well. How did the Gryffindors react?"

Harry scoffed. "They're all partying in the common room. I just… couldn't."

Cedric heard the bitterness in his tone. He was sympathetic, if only because after watching the whole school treat him badly since Halloween, Cedric couldn't blame Harry for being bitter at them.

He knew he'd feel the same.

"How are you? I know you got burned pretty bad. Looks okay now though?"

"The skin will be stiff for a few days, but I'm okay. It would have been a lot different if you hadn't warned me about it."

Harry swallowed hard. "I had help on that too. And Fleur and Krum, they both knew about it. It wouldn't have been fair to let you go out there without knowing."

There was just something so… pure about that sentiment that Cedric could feel himself melting slightly.

They sat in silence for a while but it wasn't uncomfortable.

In fact, Cedric thought it was the most enjoyable time of his whole day.

…

He wanted to tell Harry about the poem from the egg, but he didn't know if he should. He knew that he had to tell him something, but he didn't want Harry to think he was just trying to give him the answers because Harry was younger.

Unsure what else to do, Cedric told Harry to take a bath with the egg, because it was the best clue he could think of without offering up the whole thing.

He was surprised by the scathing look Harry gave him. He'd realised the younger man had been avoiding him lately, but he'd had no idea why.

At least he'd had no idea until the Yule Ball.

The covetous way Harry watched them left Cedric with no doubt that Harry was jealous and he cursed himself for being so insensitive. He wouldn't have asked Cho to join him if he'd known Harry liked her.

He was an idiot.

…

"What?"

"I didn't realise you liked Cho," Cedric repeated. "I wouldn't have asked her if I'd known. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry blinked at him and then flushed, ducking his head away. "Uh. Right. Cho. Well, uh, it's fine. No problem. I should uh. Go."

Harry walked away from him, leaving Cedric baffled. He'd thought the two of them were becoming friends, but now…

Was Cho really that important to Harry that he couldn't stand to even spend time around Cedric now?

"You're an idiot."

Cedric turned to see Cho standing behind him. "Why am I an idiot?"

She smirked. "Because I'd wager that it's not me that Potter has a crush on, Ced."

"What? Of course—oh. Really?"

"Really."

"But… he's fourteen. I shouldn't, right?"

"Do you like him?"

Cedric felt his cheeks heat. "I'm doing my best not too," he admitted sheepishly. "He's three years younger than me and… that matters when you're a teenager, you know?"

"I don't think he's a normal fourteen year old. Do you?"

…

They walked across the grounds together, discussing the mess that the officials were making of their Quidditch Pitch.

"A maze could be fun though, right?"

"Maybe," Harry agreed. "I don't really like the unexpected though. Tends to be problematic for me."

Cedric chuckled. The whole school had heard of Harry's adventures that often seemed to come at the end of the school year, after all.

"We could stick together?" Cedric offered. "Work it out together?"

Harry looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. Before he could say or do anything, a voice startled them both and Mr Crouch was staggering out of the forest.

They never did get a chance to finish that conversation.

…

Cedric offered his hand to Harry. "Together?"

They worked their way through the maze, guarding each other's back, their hands clutched tightly together. They'd been forced to enter from different points, of course, but it hadn't taken them long to find each other.

"I expected it to be worse than this," Harry admitted, as they walked down the narrow path. "I expected more obstacles. It almost seems too easy."

Cedric nodded, because he too had expected it to be more of a challenge.

"Cedric."

He glanced down at Harry and then followed his gaze. There, directly in front of them, was the Triwizard Cup.

Harry looked up to meet his eyes. "Together?"

"A double Hogwarts victory?" Cedric asked, his lips tilting into a smile. "Hell yeah!"

When they were a step away from the Cup, Cedric pulled Harry to a stop. "I just… before we pick it up… when you leave Hogwarts… look me up, okay?"

Harry's eyes widened. "I, uh. Really?"

Cedric nodded and leaned forwards, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry's lips. "I'll wait for you."

…

_The morning after Harry defeated Voldemort for the final time, he stood on the Quidditch Pitch and looked at the sky. _

"_I did it for you, Ced." _

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney: T2. Working Together - Write about two or more people from different houses working together.

Trope - 4. Different

Space - 6. Hurt/Comfort

Showtime - 10. "There wasn't time to think."

Attic - 25. Ramones: Write about someone who is popular.

Scamander's Case - 1. Pure

Film Festival - 23. Problem

Marvel - 11. Red

North Funfair - Winter Petting Zoo - Feeding Selena the Sea Otter - Write about holding hands with someone.

East Funfair - Snow Art - Orange: Windy / Pink: Posing for a picture / Green: Harry Potter

South Funfair - Magical Mistletoe - HarryCedric

Galleon: Hurt/Comfort

365: 314. Contagious


	98. Chapter 98

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 720

* * *

**Anything For You **

* * *

Oliver wrapped the burgundy scarf around Percy's neck and smiled, pressing a kiss to the frown on his boyfriend's face.

"Hooligan," Percy muttered.

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. "Come on, Perc, it'll be fun!"

"I'm going to fall over and break something!"

"I'll hold onto you," Oliver promised as he pushed Percy through the door to their flat and locked up behind them. "I won't let you fall."

Percy simply huffed and offered Oliver his arm for the two of them to apparate away.

…

Oliver loved ice skating. He had the fondest memories of spending hours as a child on the nearby lake, his mother reinforcing the ice and letting him skate rings around it until he tired himself out.

Percy, on the other hand, had only ice skated once, and it hadn't been the best experience for him. He'd ended up with a cut on his head and a broken wrist, and his brothers biting their lips as they tried not to laugh at the admittedly spectacular fall.

But then… Percy would do anything to make Oliver happy.

And ice skating made him happy.

That was the only possible reason that Percy was lacing up the bladed boots, feeling more and more nauseas as he watched the people already skating around the rink.

…

Oliver had never been to a real ice skating rink, and he'd been itching to try one out ever since he'd heard Harry mention it in passing.

Holding his hand out to Percy, he stepped onto the ice and helped his boyfriend do the same. Percy clutched at the barrier, his face screwed up in concentration and fear.

Oliver knew he really shouldn't find it so adorable, but he couldn't help it.

"Are you ready?"

Percy shook his head adamantly. "Why don't you skate around for a while and then I'll join you?"

Oliver shook his head. "I promise I won't let you fall. Let go of the side, Perce."

…

Percy let go and his legs seemed to turn to jelly immediately. Oliver had a firm grip on his arm, but Percy still didn't feel steady.

"I have you," Oliver promised, before he kicked off gently, tugging Percy with him.

Percy yelped and clutched at Oliver's arm with his free hand, so he was holding on to the same arm with both hands. Oliver chuckled slightly but didn't try and pry him off. He went slowly, taking them in a simple circle around the rink.

"Okay?" Oliver asked, when they'd made a full circuit.

Percy nodded. He still felt sick, but Oliver had kept him on his feet, so it was—

"I'm going to go a bit faster, this time, okay?"

…

Percy's face said that was very much not okay, but Oliver skated a little faster anyway, pulling Percy with him. He knew that if he could just lose the fear, Percy would be okay.

Round and round they went, mingling with the other skaters, and beside him, Oliver felt Percy finally relaxing into the rhythm of the motions.

"Better now?" he asked, grinning wide when Percy smiled at him and nodded.

"Better," Percy agreed.

Oliver spun them into the middle of the rink and replied, "Good."

…

"Oliver?"

"Just stand still and you won't fall," Oliver replied, letting go of Percy's hand. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small box, as he dropped to one knee.

Around them, people were stopping to watch, a few of them gasping, many of them smiling.

Percy could only pay attention to Oliver, who was smiling up at him nervously as he opened the box to reveal a shining silver ring.

"You make every day better, Perce. Marry me, and stay forever?"

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, tears filling his eyes, Percy nodded.

Oliver surged to his feet and wrapped his arms around Percy, spinning him around on the ice.

…

They made their way off the ice, accepting the congratulations from the strangers around them. Oliver helped Percy take off his boots, and then slipped the ring onto his finger.

"I love you," Percy murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," Oliver replied, happily. "Your nose is freezing though. Lets go and get hot chocolate, hmm?"

Percy nodded eagerly. "Now I love you even more."

* * *

**Written for:**

North Funfair - Wreath Making - Step 1: 3. Eucalyptus - Oliver Wood

East Funfair - Winter Cocktails: 16. Snowflake Martini - Ice skating

South Funfair - Holiday Cards - 29. View of snowy countryside through a window - Fluff

Galleon - Burgundy

365\. 318. Hooligan


	99. Chapter 99

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 360

* * *

**Everlasting Gratitude**

* * *

"You would have my everlasting gratitude if you would keep him," Remus muttered to James, as he followed Sirius through the door. "Until Christmas is over at least."

"Oh come on, Moony, he can't be that bad!" James replied, laughing as he closed the door behind his friends.

It was their first Christmas in Godric's Hollow, and their first with Harry, so he was super excited about the holiday this year.

Apparently, Remus didn't share that enthusiasm, even if Sirius did.

"There's my little Bambi!" Sirius called, picking Harry up from the rug he'd been laid out on.

"What did you just call my son?" James asked, frowning at his friend. "What the hell is Bambi?"

"How do you not know who Bambi is?" Sirius replied, rocking Harry gently in his arms. "You're literally married to Lily, and I _know _she introduced you to Disney. It's like, the greatest Muggle thing that exists!"

"Bambi is?"

"No, Disney is, you dumbass. But Bambi is a little baby deer. And you're a big deer. Keep up, James!"

James stared at Sirius for a long moment. "You've lost your mind haven't you? Is this why Remus wants us to keep you?"

Sirius gasped and pouted at Remus. "How very dare—"

"You've been singing Christmas songs since mid November," Remus said, deadpan as he stole Harry carefully from Sirius' arms. "You're driving me _insane._"

"But Christmas!"

"But insanity!"

"None of you appreciate my genius," Sirius complained, shaking his head. "Lils!"

Lily greeted them cheerfully, kissing their cheeks. "Merry Christmas, guys."

"It's not Christmas yet," Remus pointed out, though he smiled at her.

"We're having a week long Christmas," James said, shrugging as he accepted his son from Remus. "So I expect you to stay for the whole week, naturally. Peter will be here tomorrow."

"So, you're keeping Sirius, but I have to stay too?" Remus clarified, raising his eyebrow.

James nodded and smiled. "Sounds about right, yeah."

Remus sighed. Of course.

Later, when Sirius used Silent Night as a lullaby for Harry, Remus waited until the baby was asleep and safe in his cot before he hit Sirius.

It was only right, after all.

* * *

**Written for: **

North - Wreath, S1. Evergreen Branches: Everlasting

East - Yuletide, Step 3. 8. Godric's Hollow

South - Stocking: Felt Tips: "How do you not know who Bambi is?"

365\. 326. Lullaby


	100. Chapter 100

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 446

* * *

**Always Welcome **

* * *

"I'm just going to the market," Andromeda said, smiling at Harry. "So I shouldn't be too long."

Harry nodded. "Take your time, we'll be fine."

Teddy gurgled happily, as Harry stowed his broomstick in the umbrella stand. It was where he always put it, much to Andromeda's amusement.

The poor boy still didn't like Apparition, despite being forced to do it daily for his work as an Auror.

"I know you will," she confirmed, nodding her head. "Just keep an eye on him when he crawls around. He'd been particularly courageous about trying the stairs lately."

Laughing, Harry nodded. "Noted. Have fun at the market, Andy."

Andromeda checked her appearance in the mirror one last time, and then left the house. It wasn't the first time she'd left Teddy with Harry, of course, he was the little boy's godfather, but she still got nervous every time.

It was instinct, she knew, and she brushed it away as best she could. Harry was great with Teddy, had been since the first time he'd arrived at Andromeda's place, all awkward and nervous, and really still only a boy, despite everything he'd been through.

Now, a year later, and Harry had found his footing with both himself, and with Teddy, and it was a pleasure for Andromeda to watch.

For now though, she had shopping to focus on.

…

Andromeda found an almost silent house when she got back from the market. It was enough to send the tiniest jolt of fear through her when she realised that all she could hear was softly playing music, and it was with butterflies in her stomach that she entered the living room after dropping her bags in the kitchen.

What she found was enough to chase away the fear and leave a pleasant warmth inside of her.

Harry lay on the sofa with his eyes closed, and Teddy sprawled on his chest, fast asleep. When she took a step into the living room, she saw Harry tense slightly and open his eyes, relaxing when he saw that it was Andromeda.

"He wore you out?" she asked softly so as to not wake the sleeping child.

Harry nodded and smiled. "I don't know how you do it."

"Practice," she admitted. "You're going to stay for dinner?"

"If you're sure you have enough?" Harry replied, always polite and thoughtful.

Andromeda reached out and stroked his hair off his face. "You're always welcome here, Harry, you know that."

And he was. Andromeda returned to the kitchen with a smile on her face.

She'd lost a lot in the last few years, but she'd also gained a lot.

She could only be grateful for that.

* * *

**Written for: **

North - Wreath, S2. Snowmen: Broomstick

East - Winter Cocktail: 19. Spiced Mulled Wine - Courageous

South - Stocking: 19. Pens: Mirror

365\. 332. Market


End file.
